June
by NotSoAwry
Summary: Follows Ron and Hermione during June 1998. Rated M for safety - some snogging, a little bit of wanking and strong language. R/Hr. G/H.
1. A Fairly Decent Saturday

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

A Fairly Decent Saturday

* * *

"This is ludicrous!" Hermione Granger hissed over her breakfast eggs as she read and re-read the thick parchment in her hands and then slapped it down on the table.

"You got one too?" Ron said casually as he walked into the kitchen, fingering his own copy of the thick parchment. "Percy and Kingsley warned us this might happen."

"Yes, I know, but," Hermione huffed impatiently, "but I didn't REALLY believe it. Did you?"

Ron shrugged and sat opposite her, not answering until he piled his own plate high with bacon, eggs, sausages and several pieces of thick toast. "Yeah, I did. You know who the head of the Wizengamot is." He buttered a slice of toast, waited for it to melt, buttered it again and then bit into it noisily. "Are you really surprised?"

Tapping her folk lightly on the side of her plate, Hermione pursed her lips and frowned heavily. "Frankly, I'm having a great deal of trouble even believing that. Why can't Kingsley do something?"

Ron smiled at her expression. _Bloody hell, even when she's about to blow her top she's beautiful. _"You know he can't do anything about it until he's made permanent minister," he tried to sound reasonable, "and Percy said that he's having a few problems with the more ... traditional ... members of the ministry, in that regard."

"What does that mean?" Hermione tilted her head to one side.

"Oh, that's right, you missed that part of the conversation," Ron loaded a fresh piece of toast with scrambled egg and bacon, "well, he's a half-blood, isn't he? His mum's muggleborn." He shoved his sandwich in his mouth and moaned with appreciation. "Where is everyone, anyway?"

Hermione was temporarily diverted from the tirade she was about to launch into. "Molly's in the garden and Arthur's in his shed. Percy's in his room finished a report due on Monday, so he can enjoy the rest of his weekend. Bill and Fleur just floo-ed to Diagon Alley and everyone else is down in the orchard playing Quiddich. We're here, eating our breakfast ... well ... "she raised her brows at him, "I'm eating my breakfast and you're hoovering it down like you've not eaten in a week."

"Hoovering?" Ron shot her a curious look over his sausage.

"Vacuuming." Hermione clarified with a smile.

He looked none-the-wiser as he speared his second sausage.

"A Hoover is the brand-name of a popular vacuum cleaner, which is a machine with a bag in it. It has a hose attached and muggles use them to clean dust, dirt and such from rugs and carpets."

"Ohh." Ron grinned and shoved more bacon in his mouth, chewed it quickly and swallowed. "Got it. Dad has one in the shed," he chuckled nostalgically, "he bewitched it and then tried to use it ..."

"Oh dear ..." Hermione giggled into her mug of tea.

"Exactly," Ron nodded, "Mum was not happy – dust and smoke all over the place ... he was cleaning it up for weeks."

"Weeks?" Hermione's brows knit together.

"Mum said that because he liked muggle ways so well, he could clean up the mess the muggle way too." Ron scraped the remains of his eggs onto his last piece of toast and polished it off in short order. "Are you going to finish that?"

"Yes!" Hermione snorted rudely. _Where does he put it all? _ "Keep your hands to yourself. Just because some of us like to digest our food ... or even chew it, for that matter."

Ron pulled a face at her and poured fresh tea for them both. "What are we doing today?" he asked expectantly, a slight smile flitting over his face.

"We should prepare for this," Hermione motioned to their letters with a scowl.

"What's to prepare?" Ron asked bluntly. "We didn't do anything wrong. We'll just tell the truth ..." _Uh oh, back off Weasley. Not the way to approach this. _"I mean, I'm sure there are precedents and all that, we'll look them up."

_Nice save, Ronald. _Hermione smirked at him.

"I'm learning," he said with short laugh, correctly reading her face. "But! I'm not about to waste all weekend on it ..." he took his breakfast dishes to the sink, "I want to spend it in the sun, with you."

"Well, if you put it like that." She joined him at the sink and they watched the dishes wash themselves. "It IS a really nice day."

"Exactly." Ron took her by the shoulders and steered her toward the back door. "So what are we doing today?"

"Going for a walk to the village," Hermione decided after some thought, "then we'll come back for lunch, spend some time with Harry and Ginny, because we've hardly seen them this week ... and after dinner you can obliterate someone in a chess game while I go through some books."

Ron sighed happily as they walked into the garden. Squinting in the bright sun, they found his mother in the vegetable garden, who waved them away with a smile and a warning not to be late for lunch at one.

"I haven't been this way for a long time," Hermione whispered, slightly wide-eyed, "it's really quite beautiful, with all the tree's and hedgerow."

"Haven't you?" Ron frowned thoughtfully as they paused just outside the gate and looked down the narrow, shaded, country lane. "I suppose not – you've always floo-ed in, and we've driven when we had to go back to school." He reached over and took her hand. "Such a little hand you've got there," he grinned, holding hers and his up and studying them before leaning down and brushing his lips over hers briefly, "come on then, I'll show you all the sights you didn't get to see in fourth year."

Hermione blushed and couldn't suppress a pleased smile, allowing him to steer her away from The Burrow.

They ambled along in comfortable silence for several minutes, just listening to birdsong and enjoying the slight breeze ruffling their hair.

"Through those trees," Ron murmured, nodding to their left "is the river. Do you want to see?" At her nod, he led her to a small path – so small it could hardly be considered a path at all – and into the trees.

After several minutes of walking they came across a small clearing. "Can we sit for a while?" Hermione breathed deeply, marvelling at the heady aroma of wild flowers.

"Wait, not yet!" Ron laughed, pulling her along behind him, "we can come back here later on, if you like," and they plunged into still more tree's.

"OK then," Hermione laughed too, slightly breathless at the pace he set with his long strides.

The tree's cleared again and they came to a wider path, which ran along the higher bank of the river.

"This goes all the way to the village," he told her, nodding to his right, "there's a bench a little way along."

"Are you going to run to that too?" Hermione asked with a straight face.

"Huh?"

She grinned at his confused expression. "Nothing, don't worry about it."

"Oh," he caught on, "walking too fast for you? Sorry."

"No problem," she gazed around and sighed in content as they wandered, slowly, toward the small village. Rounding a gentle corner, they came upon a bench. "It's really lovely here ... peaceful," she murmured as they sat close in the dappled light and listened to the river dancing.

"I like it, yeah ... a little bit more walking and we'll see the village church and graveyard. We go through there, and it takes us to the common."

She could feel him looking at her, his eyes on her profile. She could feel him breathing, close as they were – and his arms draped around her shoulders as if it was the most natural thing in the world ... which it was. She leaned in closer and his fingers gently squeezed her shoulder and caressed the bare skin just by her neck ... she shivered slightly.

"Cold?" He tightened his hold on her.

"No." She shivered again when he skimmed the back of her neck with his knuckles.

"Ticklish?" His mouth right by her ear.

"No," she whispered, resting her hand on his thigh. "We're alone," she turned her head and gazed directly into his eyes, "really, truly alone."

"For the first time in weeks," he agreed, bringing his free hand up to cup her cheek.

Their lips moulded together and Hermione felt lightheaded as their tongues touched tentatively. For weeks now they'd been sharing kisses and holding each other, but they had never been utterly alone – The Burrow was full to bursting and neither of them had felt completely comfortable with the idea of being caught in an abandoned, passionate embrace.

But now ... now they could.

Ron had obviously been thinking along the same lines. He deepened their kiss, a moan escaping the back of his throat ... she whimpered in reply, and he pulled her into his lap.

They pulled apart for air, both laughing breathlessly.

"Did I ever tell you, Hermione," he ran light fingers along her collar bone while his other hand held her by the waist, "that you're beautiful?"

"You might have mentioned it," she blushed, arms around his neck.

"Kiss me again," he murmured, running his lips over her jaw.

She complied willingly, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth, making him moan again, pressing against him and sliding her hands down to his upper arms.

"You're not so bad yourself," she mumbled into the corner of his mouth and then kissed a trail to his ear, grazing her teeth over the tender skin below.

"Merlin, Hermione," it was his turn to whimper, "you need to stop ... I'm enjoying this far too much."

"Do you really want me too?" she smiled against his skin.

"No ... hell no." His fingers slid under her t-shirt and he stroked the sensitive flesh from waist to hip, letting his eyes drift shut as she renewed her assault on his neck. "It's just ... you do things to me, Hermione ... Merlin!" He growled suddenly and sunk one of his hands into her hair, tracing his lips where his fingers had just been, along her collar bone. "Just a normal day at home, eating breakfast or whatever, you do things to me ... I've wanted you for so long ... to be able to do THIS ... and it does things to me."

"It does things to me, too."

"What kind of things, hm?" He nudged her cheek with his nose and dropped a kiss on her jaw. "Blood boiling, heart thumping, weak at the knees, can't breathe things?"

"Oh yes ... exactly those kind of things."

He groaned at her words and crashed his lips onto hers, his tongue demanding entrance into her mouth – which was readily given and turned into a sensuous kind of duel, leaving them gasping for breath when they pulled apart again.

"Nice to know," Ron murmured as their foreheads touched, "but I recon my ... ah ... reaction to the things is a bit more visible than yours ... and this probably isn't the place for it."

_Who would have thought RON would be the sensible one? _"Maybe not," Hermione giggled, "we can finish this later ... I really would like to see the village."

"Good idea," they kissed again, quickly, and both stood. "Come on then," he flung his arm around her, "I'll show you my village – we should have enough time to visit the high street and drop into the tea rooms."

Hermione laughed at that and slid her arm around his hips, tucking her hand securely into his back pocket. "Always thinking about your stomach," she reprimanded in a prim tone.

"Not always," he shot her a heated look, "you'd be surprised as some of what I think about."

"I highly doubt it."

*

"It's just like a little country village out of a book," Hermione remarked as they looking in the high street shop fronts.

Ron shot her an amused look. "Well, it is a little country village. There's a second hand book shop you'll probably like, just down the way a bit."

"Do you think we'll have time to look?" she asked, the hopeful tone of her voice causing him to laugh out loud.

"Of course. Do you think I would have told you about it, if we didn't have time to go in? It's only 10. As long as we head back at 12.30, we'll be fine ... and at worse, we can walk a little way along the river and then apparate home."

*

"You don't have to carry that for me, you know." Hermione tried to tug the string bag, bulging with used books, from Ron's grasp. "I bought them, I should carry them."

"Don't be silly," he chuckled, "you'll break your arm trying to lift all this." He staggered in an exaggerated manner, earning a light slap on the chest. "Anyway, it's all part of the plan."

"The plan?"

"You got your books, now I get my cream tea," he stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"But you ate not two and half hours ago," Hermione laughed, following him into the tea rooms. "How do you fit it all in?"

"With great skill and determination," he told her loftily, choosing a table for two by the widow, "it's an art, I tell you."

A waitress approached and Ron ordered his cream tea, while Hermione wanted only a cup of tea; and they waited in silence for their order to arrive, watching the world wander by at a leisurely Saturday-morning pace.

"Oh yeah. Real clotted cream."

The corners of Hermione's mouth turned up as she watched Ron slather his scone with a good half-inch thickness of the stuff, his expression something akin to ecstasy, and then drop an over-generous blob of jam over the top.

"Try a bit. The jam's not as good as Mum's, but it's still really good." He held the scone directly in front of her mouth. "Come on, just a nibble."

"It does look good," she admitted and took a delicate bite.

"Good, isn't it?" Ron shoved the rest of the scone in his mouth in one go.

"Really good ... you've got some ..." she indicated his upper lip and watched in fascination as his tongue darted out to lick off a stray piece of jam.

"What?" he laughed, watching her expression.

She leaned forward, her voice low. "Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?"

He flushed mightily, from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears. "Might have mentioned it," he mumbled, and busied himself with preparing another scone.

She stilled his busy hands with both of hers. "You are, you know."

He muttered something incoherent and turned his hands around so their palms met and she felt herself blushing at the intensity of his gaze.

She pulled one of her hands away, took up his prepared scone and held it out to him, nudging his lips with it. His flush receding; he bit half of it away and chewed on it slowly, enjoying the sight of her consuming the other half.

"Next time," he grinned, "we'll get you your own, shall we?"

_Next time. _She caught his eye and nodded slightly. "How did you happen to have muggle money anyway?"

"Oh," he shrugged nonchalantly, "I asked Dad to change me some on Thursday."

"Planning ahead, were you?" she was unreasonably thrilled.

"Might have been," he shrugged again, looking shy, and then leaned across the table to kiss her. "We should go."

*

"Hermione," Ron tugged her hand gently and pulled her to a stop. The gate of The Burrow was just around the corner. "There's a – a farmers market, at the village, on Sundays ... would you like to go?"

"I'd ... that would be lovely."

*

"So, where did you lot get to this morning?" Harry asked over lunch.

"Village," Ron mumbled around a mouthful of cottage pie, "Hermione's never really seen it ... accept for when we went through at dawn to get to Stoats Head Hill, for the Quiddich that time." Ron nodded to his sister, "you should take Harry."

"The tea rooms are nice," Hermione added, a funny little smile on her face.

Ron caught her eye and squeezed her knee under the table. "Really good scones."

George, on Ron's other side, couldn't help laughing. "Ronnikins has issues with clotted cream," he nudged his younger brother.

Ron pretended to be put out. "I was going to suggest a day at the farmers market, tomorrow," he said, glancing at Hermione quickly and continuing on when she nodded briefly, "but if you're going to be like that."

"Pay no attention to him," Charlie cut in from across the table. "It would be fun, wouldn't it, Bill?"

"Hm?" Bill looked up at the table, having clearly paid no attention to the conversation around him.

"The farmers market, Bill," Percy told him. "They're talking about going – you should bring Fleur. You haven't seen much of the village, have you?" Percy addressed his sister-in-law with a smile.

"Well, I think it's a lovely idea," Molly said happily, "don't you think so, Arthur?"

"Very good, yes!" Arthur looked excited at the idea of spending the day among muggles.

"They have a flea market, too," Ginny's lips twitched at the warning look her mother shot her. "Who knows what we might find."

*

"I'm sorry about that," Ron whispered to Hermione later that afternoon as they sat in the front room.

"Sorry about what?" she looked up from her book, slightly confused.

"I meant for us to go on our own, tomorrow, but then I had ... I don't know ... an attack of guilt, maybe?"

"That's perfectly alright, Ron," Hermione cuddled into his side, resting the book on his knees, "it will be fun, and it might do George some good to get out of the house."

"That's what I was thinking ... speak of the devil!" Ron laughed as George walked in with Harry and Ginny.

"Talking about me, are you?" George flopped down on Ron's other side.

"About, not too," Hermione winked at him playfully.

"I'm crushed," George held his hand to his heart mockingly.

"Up yours," Ron snorted, punching George in the arm lightly. "You know you love it."

"Might do," George grinned. "So, what are we reading?"

"Wizarding Laws from 1850 onward," Hermione announced, scowling slightly, "in preparation for Monday."

"Monday?" Harry and Ginny asked in unison, while George raised his brows.

"We've been called into the Wizengamot," Ron kept his tone light.

"What on earth for?" Ginny gasped.

"It seems we're in trouble for not going to school last year," Hermione explained, her jaw clenched.

"You're taking it well" Harry eyed both Ron and Hermione in surprise.

"Not really, mate," Ron chortled, "but we knew it was coming – between you, Percy and Kingsley, how could we not?"

"But it's insane!" Ginny snapped, mirroring George's scowl, "we've been in and out of the Ministry all month and they've done nothing but kiss our arses – I missed the last term of school and no one's said anything about it."

"And caused a lot of trouble while you were there," Harry smiled fondly, taking her hand.

"It was the least I could do," Ginny muttered.

"Hm." Harry kissed her lingeringly while Ron and George looked pointedly in the other direction.

"Grow up, you two," Hermione scolded the Weasley brothers and poked them both in the side.

"So what are you going to do?" George asked, still not looking at Harry and Ginny.

"I don't think there's much we can do," Hermione admitted, "but it's not going to hurt to look for precedents."

*

The house was quiet, everyone either asleep or on the way there. Still Hermione read on. By this time she'd accepted the fact that her books weren't going to help a great deal ... but she kept on reading as much to have a reason not to go up yet, as to find anything helpful.

Ron was fast asleep, snoring lightly, his arm still draped loosely around her.

She was tempted to wake him, so they could spend some more time in each other's company – without interruption. Then she felt a stab of guilt. Ron's family needed him just as much as she did – and they had opened their arms to her at her lowest moment ... especially George, who was still hurting so badly from the loss of his twin.

No. It would be completely churlish to resent the amount of privacy they'd not managed to have over the last month or so.

Ron also needed sleep. She could see the strain around his mouth and eyes – yet he always presented a strong, steady face to the world ... far bit it for HER in increase his stress by complaining, making him feel he wasn't doing enough.

This would have to do.

She shut her book and nestled into his side – no doubt she'd wake with a crick in her neck, but it would be worth it.

*

"Hermione?" Ron whispered, squeezing her shoulder gently.

She burrowed further into him, but didn't wake.

_Ah well. _He raised his head and looked out of the window. The outside world was bathed in a strange, other-worldly pre-dawn light. He squinted at the family clock, but couldn't make it out.

He supposed it didn't really matter. His mother would be up in an hour or so – or his father – and then the entire house would wake as the smell of a cooked breakfast filled the rooms.

He had to piss in the worst way, though, among other things, and she didn't even flinch when he eased out from around her – thank Merlin, because he really wanted to return to his spot.

The piss was taken care of in short order – although he'd had to bend certain parts of himself in such a way that his eyes crossed with discomfort.

_This is so not going away on its own,_ he though sourly to himself, _and I can't spend all morning sporting wood. _He hissed as he wrapped his hand around his erection and started work on it – biting the knuckles of his other hand to keep quiet. All it took was thinking about the beautiful woman waiting for him downstairs, thoughts of the quiet moments spend by the river the previous day ... he was tempted to drag it out longer, indulge in his favourite fantasy ... but he wanted to get back to her. He wanted to go back to sleep with her snuggled against him. With a final twist of his wrist, and a low grunt, he was done – then cleaning himself up and tiptoeing downstairs as quickly and quietly as possible.

She hadn't even moved, so he slid back into his spot and dropped his arms around her again – taking a moment to pull a knitted blanket from the back of the settee onto their knees ... making sure all hands were well in view, so as not to give his mother too much reason to complain.

*

At 6.50am light snoring could be heard. Nothing unusual about that, in a house full of men – sometimes Molly wondered how The Burrow withstood the vibrations.

This particular light snoring was easily identified as her youngest son – and was definitely coming from the wrong direction.

Molly peeked into the front room and studied the pair on the settee carefully. It certainly didn't look like any funny business had been going on – they'd simply fallen asleep where they had sat ... doubtless Ron had drifted off first and Hermione had finally succumbed some time later.

She felt a pang of sympathy for the young couple. It was a very strange courtship they were having. They should have been sneaking off at every available opportunity, but they stayed close to home. She'd been so happy when they'd taken a walk on their own, yesterday morning ... granted, she didn't want to think too hard about what they might have got up too – but they were both of age, and had lived through more than most people did in four lifetimes ... she trusted them to be responsible.

Molly hadn't been especially happy, later that day, when Ron had suggested the entire family visit the famers market in the village. Her sharp eyes had caught a flash of disappointment in Hermione's; quickly follow by a dash of shame, and then a bright smile. Molly had also seen Ron's apologetic look –with a quick flick of the eyes to George, and Hermione's nod of understanding.

Yes, a strange courtship indeed – and as Mother, it was up to her to do something about it.

The snoring had stopped.

"Ronald," Molly whispered, coming into the room. "Are you awake dear?"

"Morning Mum," Ron whispered back, scrunching his eyes against the bright light. He looked around in confusion. "Must have fallen asleep in front of the fire," he muttered, rubbing his face with one hand. "What time is it?"

"Nearly seven," she said, smiling fondly down at him. "You've got time for a little more sleep," she suggested.

He raised his brows at her. "Aren't I in trouble for putting her in a compromising position or something?"

Molly laughed, and then clapped her hand over her mouth when Hermione muttered something incomprehensible. "No, you're not in trouble," she whispered, "she looks comfortable there – and so did you ... although I don't know how her neck is going to be when she wakes. Stretch out, for heaven sake."

*

Hermione woke to the most wonderful feeling in the world. Strong arms wrapped around her and a solid, warm body flush against her back. _I must be dreaming. _She resolutely refused to open her eyes, not wanting it to go away ... but she could smell bacon.

_How odd. I've never dreamed a smell before._ The body behind her stirred and the legs tangled with hers tensed and then stretched.

Ron groaned and then yawned, hugging her to him.

Her eyes flew open. _What? Oh, yes. The front room ... good grief, what must Ron's mother think of me? _

As if reading her thoughts, Ron's deep voice muttered into her hair, "She knows ... she even tucked us in."

"What?" She twisted around awkwardly and found her eyes a scant inch from Ron's stubbly chin.

"She came in just before seven," Ron clarified and then kissed her forehead. "I thought I'd be in trouble, but she said we looked too comfortable to wake up yet, suggested we stretch out for your neck ... and then she tucked us in."

"Oh." Hermione blushed. "How ... unexpected."

Ron's mouth curved into a smile before her eyes, and she couldn't help bringing up a hand and tracing his lips with her index finger. An all too familiar ache began to pool between her thighs, which wasn't helped at all by Ron gathering her into his arms and pulling her close, sliding a hand down her back and sinking his face into her hair. "We have to get up," he murmured regretfully, pressing his lips to her forehead and then letting her go.


	2. Sunday at the Market

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Sunday at the Market

* * *

"Ginny dear, could I have a moment?" Molly pulled her daughter lack of few steps from their family, all of whom were examining various objects at the flea market stalls.

"Sure, Mum." Ginny watched Harry and her father exclaiming over some gadget or other, and then turned to her mother.

Molly tucked her arm into Ginny's and directed them both to a nearby needlework stall. "I want to ask something of you."

"Hmm?" Ginny fingered a delicate tablecloth. "Pretty, don't you think? What is it, Mum?"

"Now, I know you and Harry are very busy at the moment," Molly held up one finger when it seemed Ginny was about to interrupt, "hush dear, let me finish. I know that you and Harry are very busy at the moment; and I'm glad you're with him, I don't know how he'd cope without your support – oh, I know he would, because he's Harry ... but even so, he shouldn't have to do it all on his own. But I need you do something for Ron and Hermione."

"Ron and Hermione?" Ginny echoed. "What?"

"Well, you wouldn't know, really – although I'm sure you've noticed to some degree, just how much time they've spent with George lately."

"I had noticed actually," Ginny glanced over that the cluster of fiery heads several tables away. "I think it's good for him."

"Yes, it is," Molly agreed, "they're rarely apart, those three ... did you know that it was George's idea? When Hermione learnt about her parents," Molly sniffled and then shook her head impatiently, "it was a very difficult time, obviously – especially so soon after Fred ..."

"Mum?" Ginny patted her mother's arm, "where are you going with this?"

"Yes, of course. Sorry dear. Ron begged George to help him – said that he knew it was too much to ask, but that he needed help, he didn't know what to do for Hermione. George told him that they'd get her through the worst of it together – although he's definitely benefited from it just as much."

Ginny felt a pang of guilt. She and Harry had come home late that night, to find the house shocked into silence. They had cried with their friend, hugged her and kissed her cheek – and then everyone had gone to bed ... aside from Ron and George, who had elected to sit up with Hermione for a little while longer.

The next morning Harry and Ginny had left after an early breakfast and then come home late again, and this was how it continued for weeks on end. The only time they had spend at home was on the weekend – something they had both complained roundly about, missing their family and friends ... but now she wondered what else they'd been missing.

"I wondered why they didn't come down to the orchard yesterday," Ginny said. "They need some time to themselves, don't they?"

"That's it exactly, dear. They need some time to themselves, and George has more than one sibling."

"Yes, he does," Ginny agreed, fixing her mother with a shrewd look, "have you mentioned this to any of his other brothers yet?"

"I intend too," Molly muttered. "Percy is just as busy at the ministry as you and Harry; but Charlie certainly isn't, and Bill should know better."

"Good." Ginny hugged her mother impulsively. "Thanks for pointing out what should have been obvious. I'm going to rescue Harry from Dad now, OK?"

"Send your father over here." Molly directed with a smile.

"Sorry Dad!" Ginny grinned cheekily up at her father, interrupting his steady flow of questions, "Mum wants you for something."

Arthur started visibly and then looked for his wife, shuffling over to her with his hands in his pockets; reminding Ginny suddenly, very strongly, of Ron.

"What was that all about?" Harry wanted to know as she slipped her warm hand into his and pulled him along to look at the table full of old-fashioned children's toys.

"Oh! I used to have one of these," she held up a brightly painted wooden horse with wheels on the end of its legs, "so cute. I've been having a chat with Mum."

Used to the way Ginny jumped around in conversation, Harry nodded. "I noticed." He picked up a small tin drum and tapped it experimentally, smiling at the sound. "Are you going to fill me in?"

Ginny sighed and put the horse down. "We've been spending too much time at the Ministry. She didn't say that, by the way, I'm saying that. She knows we don't have much choice in the matter and she's happy that I'm there to support you ... but we've been missing out on what's going on closer to home, Harry."

"What's that?" Harry frowned, taking in her serious demeanour.

"Did you know that Ron, Hermione and George spend nearly every waking moment together? I didn't, but apparently they do."

Harry sighed. "I'd gathered they'd spent a lot of time together, yes. I ... I suppose it's only natural."

"Maybe so," Ginny agreed, "have you spoken to Ron much lately? Because I know I've not spoken much to Hermione."

"It's true," Harry's frown deepened. "We come home for dinner, if we're lucky, hang around in the front room for a bit and then head straight up for bed. He doesn't usually come in until much later, and by then I'm asleep."

"Same with me and Hermione," Ginny confirmed, "and we leave directly after breakfast and don't get home until dinner, if we're lucky."

They moved on to the next stall. Bric-a-brac.

"So?" Harry looked at her expectantly.

"So Mum says that Ron and Hermione need time alone together. Did you notice how they didn't come down to the orchard yesterday?"

"I did, yeah. I was surprised, because it's Ron, you know? I was a bit put out, actually," Harry looked ashamed of himself, "because I was looking forward to spending some time with them."

"Oh, look," Ginny rushed to assure him, "so was I! But now that Mum's put a bug in my ear ..."

"We need to spend more time at home," Harry concluded.

"Even more than that, we can't let Ron shoulder everything anymore."

"What do you mean? Did your Mum say that?" Harry asked, confused.

"No, she didn't, but that's what she meant. Honestly Harry," Ginny giggled suddenly, "you're as bad as Ron sometimes."

"I'm sure I am," Harry shrugged, "so enlighten me."

"Ron is carrying George and Hermione's grief," Ginny explained patiently as she studied an old pair of brass candle-sticks, "well, Hermione is his girlfriend, so I suppose it's only right ... but she's our best friend too ... and George is my bother. They're both our family and he shouldn't have to take on so much by himself."

"You make it sound like he's the only other Weasley child, beside you and George," Harry protested.

"Hmm." Ginny's eyes flashed. "Sometimes it feels like it."

"What?" Harry sat abruptly on a convenient bench and tugged her down with him. "What do you mean?"

"Ugh. Now I'm just being mean," Ginny pursed her lips and shook her head, "probably because I feel so bad right now. Mum said she's going to talk to Bill and Charlie too. Percy's just as busy at the Ministry as we are ... Merlin knows we've had lunch with him often enough ... but somehow it's different with Bill and Charlie. Maybe because me and Ron were so small when they went to Hogwarts, and then they went off to work abroad after school. I don't ever really remember them being around a lot, excepting over school breaks."

"Ginny," Harry spoke quietly and took her hand, "don't worry about it. We know now and we can do something about it – and the first thing, I think, is to make sure we're with them tomorrow, at the Wizengamot."

"You're sweet," she kissed his cheek; "we'll definitely be there with them."

A small crowd of red heads wandered past them, accompanied by a long sheet of silvery blonde hair and a chestnut mane of curls.

"That's our people," Harry jumped up, "let's catch up and get some lunch!"

*

Ron felt completely relaxed and happy. Laughter surrounded him as his family chatted away under the striped awning of the "Devon Slow Food" marquee. He was sharing a pint of muggle beer with Hermione, although judging by the way she wrinkled her nose whenever she took a sip, he suspect he be taking the lion's share of the surprisingly refreshing but very bitter drink.

Harry and Ginny were harassing George, teasing him and stealing lumps of meat from his stew. It was good to see George looking so relaxed and carefree.

Ron smiled down at Hermione, drinking in her warm brown eyes. Her lips were perfectly shaped and a delicate rose pink ... begging to be kissed.

"Hello? Ron?" Hermione poked him in the leg.

"Sorry. What?" Ron blinked, slowly coming out of his daze.

"Have you heard a word I said?" she demanded, slightly cross.

"Sorry, no. I drifted off." He apologised, still gazing at her.

"But you were looking straight at me," she was torn between amusement and frustration.

"Hmm. I was admiring you, more like," he murmured into her ear, ignoring the shocked look Charlie was giving him across the table, "and I got lost thinking about how your lips are the perfect shape and how much I want to kiss them right now."

"How can I possibly stay cross with you when you say things like that?" Hermione wondered, blushing mightily.

"You mean that's all it would have taken?" Ron chuckled. "All those times we squabbled at school? All I could have done was told you what I was thinking, and you wouldn't have been mad anymore?"

"Oh, pish." Hermione chuckled too – the noise around them making her confident they wouldn't be overheard, but she leaned closer to Ron anyway, just for the pure pleasure of it. "As if you were thinking anything like that in school."

"You think?" Ron challenged with asperity. "Why do you think I used to wind you up so much? It might have been yelling, but at least you were yelling at me, and I was desperate for your attention ... no matter what it took."

"You didn't?" Hermione giggled. "That's insane."

"No one ever accused me of being mature," he pointed out cheerfully.

*

Charlie wondered exactly what was going on in this alternate universe; for surely that's what it must be, because everything was ever so slightly skewed.

Ginny was leaning all over Harry Potter and he had his hand on her knee. Her knee, mind you! Mum and Dad were right there. Right there! Not even batting an eyelid. On top of that, they were stealing most of poor Georges' food, and he was just laughing at them.

In the mean time, when had Ron and Hermione Granger become permanently joined at the hip? His baby brother – only a year older than his baby sister, she with the hand on her knee boyfriend – Ron, clumsy, awkward Ron was whispering something in that girls ear and making her blush something terrible. Again, his parents said nothing – merely sat idly by and watched with silly grins plastered over their faces.

_It's not right! They're all too young for that kind of carry on. Why aren't Mum and Dad putting a stop to it?_

Yes, he'd definitely be having a chat to Dad about this.

"Charles," Percy nudged him gently in the side, "would you calm down."

"What?" Charlie glared at Percy, hard. "What are you on about?"

Percy sighed and shook his head. He carefully finished his cardboard bowl of curry and dabbed his mouth clean with his folded napkin. "I said you need to calm down."

"I am calm," Charlie retorted, tearing a slice of bread into tiny pieces.

"Clearly. Come for a walk with me, Charles, before you say something that will get you into trouble."

"Trouble?" Charlie repeated foolishly, extremely put out.

"I know that look," Percy literally dragged Charlie up from the bench – with surprising strength for a lanky-arsed quill pusher, "and Ginevra is not one to be trifled with."

"Ginny?" Charlie snorted with laughter as Percy dragged him to the bar. "I'm pretty sure I can handle Ginny."

Percy ordered two pints of larger. "I wouldn't be so sure of that," he warned, "but if you want to find out first hand, you're certainly going the right way about it."

"OK. Seriously now, Perce," Charlie eyed his prim and proper bother with mounting annoyance, "what the bloody hell are you on about?"

"Be quiet and drink your larger," Percy ordered, sipping at his own.

"Don't tell me what to do," Charlie growled, ignoring his drink and favour of scowling up at Percy, "you might be taller than me, but I can still pound you into the ground with one arm tied behind my back."

"I don't doubt it for one minute," Percy agreed mildly, polishing his glasses with his handkerchief and placing them precisely back on his nose. Then he fixed Charlie with a stern look. "If you keep on glowering at Ginevra and Harry like that, you'll find out just how much of a handful she can be – and while I'm sure Harry would be too polite to do anything, he's no slouch in that department either."

Charlie scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Was I that obvious?"

"Absolutely ... and you can be thankful that Ronald was too engrossed with Hermione to heed the way you were looking at them as well. She is extremely clever, I would never want to make an enemy of her - and you may not have noticed it, Charles, but he's bigger than any of us. You need to calm down."

"Don't be ridiculous" Charlie snorted again, finally taking a long drink and forgetting how irritated he was with Percy in the face of the unreality of the conversation. "Ron's harmless."

"Ronald? Harmless?" Percy laughed in disbelief. "Do you know our youngest brother at all? Or are you confusing him with the little boy who hero-worshiped you when you went off to Hogwarts, and then to tame the dragons?"

This bought Charlie up short. "Of course I'm not," he was deeply offended. "That's completely not the point. Ron and Ginny are far too young to be carrying on like that. In public no less! I don't understand why Mum and Dad aren't putting a stop to it!"

There was a pitying quality to Percy's smile, which Charlie didn't like at all.

"Tell me, Charles, how old is Ginevra?"

Charlie frowned. "She must be 14 by now, which is exactly my point! She's too young to have some boys hand all over her knee!"

"She will be of age in less than two months ... and Ronald was 18 in March. They're not children anymore."

"Surely not." Charlie was gobsmacked.

"Surely yes," Percy persisted. "Now drink your larger and calm down. I'll buy you another, if you need it, because if either of them notices you looking at them like that, well ... you mark my words, you'll be in for trouble."

"OK, fine." Charlie held up his hands in defeat, and then drained his glass. "Get me another then."

"Well done." Percy looked pleased with himself and waited until their order – half's this time – was placed in front of them before he broached the next subject on his mind.

"Ginevra cornered me by the bric-a-brac earlier," Percy said casually, "there's something else we need to talk about."

"Really?" _Could this day get any weirder? _"What's that?"

"It's about Ronald – and Hermione and George."

"Go on."

"Ginevra tells me Ronald has been taking care of both of them. As Ginevra so subtly pointed out to me, Ronald is not Georges only brother and she is on the war-path. I thought it only fair to forewarn you."

"I beg your pardon?" Charlie was beginning to feel offended all over again. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know Ginevra, no hidden meanings with her." Percy hooked his feet around the legs of the bar stool and hunched over a bit.

"Yes, obviously ... but what does it MEAN?" Charlie pressed.

"I am of the belief," Percy suddenly sounded incredibly pompous, which Charlie knew to mean he was on the defensive, "that Ginevra feels that William and your good self are neglecting your family duties to our two younger brothers."

Charlie gaped.

Percy's shoulders sagged. "I must confess that I've been so busy at the ministry myself ... I've spent much more time with Ginny and Harry – we often take luncheon together, you know – than I have with the rest of the family. I do make a point to look in on George of a morning, before departing for the Ministry, and I often share a game of chess with Ronald before retiring for the night ... however, Ginevra feels Ronald is over-taxed with the emotional care of his girl-friend and our brother."

"But they're all right though," Charlie frowned. "I see them every day; they spend all their time together – Ron, George and Hermione, that is."

"That, Charles, appears to be part of the problem." Percy was suddenly impatient with his older brother's obtuseness. "They are not all right! Hermione lost her parents! George lost Frederic!"

"We all lost Fred." Charlie snapped.

"Oh, it's not the same and you know it!" Percy snapped right back. "Frederic and George had a bond that went far beyond that of brothers – none of us could possibly understand it."

"Maybe," Charlie conceded.

"Maybe?" Percy arched one eyebrow. "Hermione and George are grieving – yes, we all are, but we didn't lose our parents. We didn't lose a twin!"

"What does this have to do with Ron, exactly?" Charlie suddenly felt very tired.

"He's been with them, night and day – apparently literally. The three of them have been looking after each other, but most of all Ronald has been looking after them."

"Oh," said Charlie. "I knew they were close, but I didn't think it was like that."

"Turn around and look. Tell me what you think."

Charlie did turn around. Bill and Fleur were at one end, holding hands and deeply engrossed in each other. Ron and Hermione were leaning back, arms around each other, observing everything with peaceful smiles plastered all over their faces. Harry and Ginny now had George between them and seemed to be teasing him mercilessly about something ... which George seemed to find utterly hilarious. His Mum and Dad were a mirror of Ron and Hermione – happily surveying the scene.

"Right." Charlie blinked. "Apparently they are." He finished the remains of his half quickly. "So. Ron and Ginny aren't babies any more. Harry Potter is allowed to snog my sister. Ron could probably beat me in a fight, and we need to spend more time with George."

"That's it in a nutshell," Percy nodded.

"Why the hell didn't you just say so?" Charlie laughed.

"Because," Percy smirked at his older brother, "it was much more fun to explain it in words of two syllables or less."

"You arse." Charlie snorted and looked back at the table. "Someone needs to clue Bill in."

"That would be you," Percy chuckled, drained his own glass and tipped it over on its side. "Good luck with that."

"Why did I know you were going to say that?" Charlie grumbled.

"Because under that rough, obtuse exterior," Percy looked quite smug, "you're actually quite clever."

*

The path along the river was anything but quiet as the Weasley crowd walked home late that afternoon.

"That was fun," Hermione grinned up at Ron as they lagged behind the large group, "I'm glad you decided to invite everyone. I think they all had a great time."

"I think they did, yeah," Ron took her hand, keeping them even further back. "Just before Ginny ran away with George, Harry gave me a piece of advice."

"What was that?" She wanted to know, slightly breathless under his suddenly intense look.

"He said I should hide behind a tree and snog my girlfriend senseless." He came a step nearer and took her other hand.

"That sounds like reasonable course of action." She pulled him off the path and into the trees.

"I thought so," his eyes glinted as he ran one finger down her cheek and hooked it under her chin to bring her face up.

Feather light kisses on her lips and her eyes drifted shut, her arms sliding around his torso, she stood on tippy toes just to get closer to him. With seemingly no effort on his part; he lifted her up to his level and ravished her mouth, leaning her gently against a convenient tree – the obvious thing to do was for her to wrap her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck as his hands slid under her bum to keep her tightly in place.

Things went from intense to scorching in record time. Maybe it was the river rushing just below them, or maybe it was his hands methodically squeezing her bum which made her blood race and her head spin ... perhaps the rustle of wind through the leaves, or perhaps the way her fingers tangled in his hair made him desperate with want ... but when they pulled apart they were both panting and in disarray.

They stared at each other for a long moment, both wild eyed, and then plunged in for more ... fabric being shifted and flesh being stroked, he hitched her up just a little higher, so she had to bend her neck to reach him ... somehow making it all the more ... just so ... and his hand skimmed over the side of her beast, under her t-shirt but over her bra ... she moaned approval into his mouth and kissed him harder, sucking his tongue into her mouth and dancing her own around it as he flicked his thumb over her pointed, hard nipple. He groaned in delight when she tore her mouth from his and bit at the nape of his neck, suckling the tender white skin and then lathing her tongue over it.

Raucous laughter could be heard in the distance, and a voice calling out.

They pulled apart again, so, so reluctantly. He put her gently on the ground and bent to kiss her thoroughly one last time.

"Family," he grumbled, still flushed around the cheekbones and neck, privately thankful for his very loose fitting jeans.

"Dinner," she agreed, lightheaded still and aching in all the right places.

They tidied each other up, checking for stray pieces of tree and unruly hair, then clasped hands tightly and set off to catch up with the rest of the Weasley's.


	3. Chitchats of a Surprising Nature

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Chit-chats of a Surprising Nature (Sunday Night and Monday Morning)

* * *

"So." Harry was being soundly trounced in a game of chess, by Ron, "are you ready for tomorrow afternoon?"

"Not really," Ron considered the board in front of him carefully and directed his knight to the middle of the action. "Obviously Hermione's still looking things up ... but I can't see what she thinks she's going to find."

"Yeah well, this is Hermione we're talking about," Harry pointed out redundantly, and then shifted his bishop into a safer position on the side of the board.

"Exactly," Ron agreed, smiling slightly and pushing his bishop into the centre of the board next to his knight, "it makes her happy ... think hard before you take that knight, Potter, my other bishop is just over there."

"Bloody hell," Harry groused, choosing to instead shift a pawn, "yeah, it makes her happy. What about you, Weasley? Are you happy?"

"Me?" Ron's eyebrows shot up into his hair – Harry had never asked him a question like that before. "Sure, I'm happy. Some things are still not so good, but other things are great, so it all evens out. Uh ... you?"

"The same," Harry agreed, thinking that he had probably delved enough into the emotional side of their friendship for the night.

Ron clearly agreed. "Good," he nodded shortly and took Harry's rook with one of his knights.

"Arse," Harry grunted, but took the offending knight with his queen.

"Idiot," Ron snorted in response, taking Harry's queen with his and adding, "Checkmate."

"What? How?" Harry scowled.

"See there?" Ron pointed, "and there, and there."

"I really didn't have a hope, did I?" Harry laughed.

"No." Ron agreed, "but take heart, Potter, you're learning."

"How long have we been playing now?" Harry demanded, "Seven years? Nearly eight?"

"Maybe in another eight you'll be able to beat me then," Ron sniggered and then looked over at the corner of the room, where Hermione was talking to Ginny. "I wonder what they're going on about."

"Us," Harry stated after observing them for a few moments.

"Right." Ron shook his head in disbelief. "How can you tell that?"

"They're whispering and giggling." Harry shrugged. "Obviously they're talking about BOYS – and we ARE their boys, so they're talking about us."

This statement was confirmed by Ginny shrieking "EWWW" and sticking her fingers in her ears dramatically.

"See?" Harry grinned. "Hermione just told Ginny something about you that Ginny clearly doesn't want to think about."

"She wouldn't!" Ron protested, immediately turning tomato red.

"She would!" Harry chortled at Ron's embarrassment. "Ginny will have been at her to find out where you two disappeared too on the way home and in the end Hermione will have told her, just to shut her up ... and what we saw was Ginny learning more than she ever wanted to know."

"Serves her right," Ron grumbled, still embarrassed.

"So what did you get up too?" Harry asked, suddenly curious.

"I just took your advice and snogged her senseless," Ron couldn't help closing his eyes and smiling gently at the memory.

"Oh Merlin," Harry looked slightly sickened, "you're going all smooshy and you're blushing."

"Rubbish," Ron leaned forward seriously, "it was great ... I had her up against a tree and we were kissing, really getting into it, you know? And she bit my neck! I thought I was going to -"

"OK! ENOUGH!" Harry covered his ears with his hands. "I really don't want to know! I'm sorry I asked."

Ron caught Hermione's eye from across the room and they grinned in delight. This could be fun.

*

Someone woke up suddenly to the sound of a loud thump and muffled swearing.

_So many people, only one toilet._

That someone shrugged and started drifting off just as a whispered conversation started to float through the cracked-open bedroom door.

"Bloody hell, George! You scared the crap out of me!" It was Ron, whispering harshly.

"Sorry Ron," George was laughing quietly, "didn't think anyone would be in there."

"What are you doing up, anyway?" Ron wanted to know.

"Had to piss. You?"

"Same."

"Is that all?" George chuckled.

"What?" Ron laughed too, "Oh, fuck off."

"Hah! Language Ronald! You were!"

Ron must have shrugged or pulled a face or something, because George just laughed more.

"Give me a break," Ron sounded put out, "I'm sharing a room with Harry, I can't wank with him in there."

The inadvertent eavesdropper's eyes flew open.

_This is interesting._

"I guess not," George was sniggering, "I'll leave you too it."

"I'm finished, idiot. Go take your piss."

"Did you clean up after yourself?"

_I'm never using that toilet again!_

"Of course I did," Ron sounded aghast. "Yeah, Mum would just love that, jizz all over the place. What do you take me for?"

"OK, OK." Silence for a minute. "Hey, Ron?"

"What?"

"Stay there. I really need to piss, but I need to talk to you about something."

"Fine."

More silence. The door closed and in short order the toilet could be heard flushing, then the door opened again.

"Fucking needed that."

"I'm happy for you, George. What's up?"

"Obviously you were ..."

"Shut. Up. You are far too interested in my nocturnal activities. Do you want to whip them out and compare notes or something?"

"Augh. Shut your dirty mouth, child. No, seriously though. I have to ask you something, Ron."

"What's that?"

"Am I ... am I getting in your way?"

"What? What do you mean, George?"

"Exactly what I said. Getting in your way. Cramping your style."

Ron laughed at that. "Don't be stupid."

"Are you SURE?" George sounded quite urgent about this.

"I'm sure. Bloody hell, what's bought this on?"

"I couldn't sleep ..."

"And?"

"I'm really worried about tomorrow, you know? What if you get taken to Azkaban or something?"

"What? Come on George, I'm not going to get taken to Azkaban ... well, shit ... I hope not."

"What if you do?"

"I won't. Are you really that worried about it?"

"Well ... yes ... no ... I don't know. I don't think you will either, that would be ridiculous – but these charges are ridiculous, so ... you know?" George suddenly sounded very young.

There was a strange soft slapping sound. Maybe Ron was hugging George and patting his back firmly?

"Don't worry about it," Ron sounded very adult and firm, "now, what's this got to do with getting in my way?"

"It just got me thinking, that's all." _Is George CRYING?_ "What if you got taken away? You AND Hermione? I need you. I need you both." George was definitely crying. It sounded muffled and there was more of that slapping sound again. _He's crying on Ron's shoulder!_

"Shhh. Don't worry about it. You have us both, we need you too. I wouldn't have been able to do it without your help, you know that." Do what? What couldn't Ron have done without Georges help?

"You're just saying that."

"No. I'm not! George, for Merlin sake ... tell me what's going on!"

"Look at me! I'm sobbing like some great big girly git on your shoulder ..."

"So?" Ron seemed to be laughing again. "Everyone likes a cuddle."

_Smooth, Ron._

"That's not funny." George was laughing now too, though his voice was still muffled and the slapping sound could be heard again.

"Come on man. Spit it out."

"I ... I ..."

"Fine. I have to guess then? Right ... you're worried because we might get taken away and you feel like you're depending on us too much?"

More sobbing.

"You idiot, George. You are NOT depending on us too much. We love you, you can depend on us just as much as you need too, for as long as you need too ... and when you're ready to pull back a bit, that's fine too. It's a two way street, remember. Am I making myself clear?"

_Ron? This is RON talking? _

More sobbing.

_Oh, George..._

"You're not getting in my way, do you understand?" Ron's voice had an unrecognisable soft quality to it.

"Are you really sure?" George seemed to be getting control of himself again. "I mean, you and Hermione ... you're a couple and ... I feel like I've been intruding. I mean, fuck! You can't even get a good wank in, in peace and quiet, you poor bastard."

Ron snorted at that. "I'll survive, I promise. And as long as you don't try and get your end in with Hermione, it's all good."

_Ron did NOT just say that._

"Hell no!" George laughed. "She'd tear my damn bollocks off, if I even thought about it."

"So don't think about it."

"Hah! No worries there, it would take a braver man then me to get into something with Hermione Granger. She's all yours."

_HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I love it._

"Oh, come on, she's not that bad." Ron sounded slightly offended.

"She's awesome, don't get me wrong," George said in a hurry, "I love her to bits, you know that ... but she's scary as fuck when she gets her dander up."

"Hermione? Scary as fuck?" There was a few seconds of silence. "I 'spose. I just think it's hot when she's mad, to be honest. She gets all passionate about it, and her hair goes all wild ... and she kind of pants a little bit, you know?"

"Yeah, I shared a common room with both of you for years, remember?" George snorted rudely. "I used to watch you two go at it like you were about to eat each other up. You could really get on her nerves."

Ron laughed. "I know. I used to do it on purpose, sometimes."

"You're kidding?"

"Hey, I'm not proud of it ... I can be a complete arse and I know it ... but sometimes, well ... I just needed her focus to be on me, you know? It was the only way I knew how to get it."

"Did you ever consider flowers?"

"Nah, I wasn't that highly evolved ... anyway, we're not here to talk about ME. YOU need to get the idea out of your thick skull that you're in our way, or anything idiotic like that."

"Right."

"Don't look at me like that."

"Right."

"Fine. Listen, George. I'll admit that a little bit more snogging time wouldn't be a bad thing – but that's got just as much to do with everyone ELSE in this house as it does with you, trust me on that one."

"How do you figure that?"

"Well, shit, mate. I'd like nothing more than to ... you know ... all the time, but that's not going to happen. Things get really ... eh ... you know. Trust me, you don't want to know."

"Oh, I think I do." George sniggered suddenly. "If you snog anything like you used to fight ..."

_I will never look at Hermione the same way again._

"Exactly."

_I don't want to hear this. Why didn't I shut my damn door properly?_

"BUT ..." Ron lowered his voice, "that's not going to work in this house, is it? Mum's always around, and Dad's only at work some of the time. Everyone's in and out all hours of the day ... and you are the only brother I have who DOESN'T look at me as if I'm ten years old. Actually, that's not right. Percy's OK, too, he seems to like me - but we hardly ever see him, he's always at work. Bill's still pissed at me, I think, for not telling him what we were doing last year and hardly talks to me at all even if he can manage to drag himself away from Fleur, and when he does ... well ... and bloody Charlie glares at me if I so much as look at Hermione.

_Oh, for goodness sake._

"What?"

"What? What?"

"What? What? What?" George chuckled. "Come on man. Are you serious?"

"Totally. I don't care that much, actually. They can do what they want, it's not my problem. I've got you and Hermione, and I've got Harry and Ginny. Mum and Dad are always there for me and Percy can be good company when he's around and not in lecture mode."

_I guess that's something._

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?"

"What?" Ron sounded confused.

"About not caring about Bill and Charlie."

"I didn't say I don't care about them," Ron sounded amused, "they're my brothers too, I love them ... I just don't give a shit what they think about me anymore."

"Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"

_Good question. _

"Huh?"

"I saw it in a muggle movie once," George chuckled, "and it's a valid question."

"Nothing happened to me," Ron laughed, "I'm still Ron."

"Well, obviously, with that ugly mug."

"Up yours."

"No, really. What happened to you, Ron?"

"I don't get what you mean."

_I do._

George let out an exaggerated sigh. "You can let go of me now, you git, I'm fine."

_He was holding him the whole time ..._

"What I mean, is that when you disappeared with Harry and Hermione, you were a speckly, skinny git with an insecurity complex the size of Hogwarts and a temper to match."

"Thanks so much."

"But now you're not."

"I had to grow up sometime, George."

"So what happened?"

"Voldemort."

"Voldemort?"

"Yes, George, Voldemort. He took me over, you know. Kind of like he did with Ginny that time, but not in the same way. It woke me up to myself. I nearly lost everything, because of Voldemort – but it was already there, in my head, for him to use against me. It made me think. I had to grow up."

_Fucking hell._

"Fucking hell."

"Fucking hell is right, George."

"What happened?"

"It's not important."

"I think it is, Ron!"

"I'll tell you some other time."

"I'll hold you to that, Ronnikins."

"I know you will, Georgie."

"I still don't ..."

"Bloody hell."

"Don't roll your eyes at me!"

"I grew up, OK." Ron laughed. "I don't need to compare myself to anyone and I don't need to prove myself."

"You never did!"

"That didn't stop me," Ron snorted. "Think about it. I'm just average, boring Ron Weasley. I'm number 6, the youngest son ... but not even the youngest, the youngest got to be a girl and after that they stopped having kids. It used to really get to me."

_Heh. When you put it like that ... I can see your point._

"We ... we didn't really ... we made it worse, didn't we?"

"Huh?"

"Me and ... me and Fred."

"A bit. Not really though," Ron said easily, "at least you two were funny and I knew you'd back me up when it really mattered ... even if you did give me the shits most of the time." More back slapping. "You two were the least of my problems."

"He'd be really proud of you, you know. Fred would."

"I'd give it all away to have him back." Ron's voice cracked.

_Me too, Ron. Me too._

"Yeah, so would I. But he wouldn't want that ... Merlin, come here you oaf."

"Fuck, it's not about me, I'm fine," Ron grumbled.

"Don't be a wanker," George sounded gruff, "let me be the strong one for a change."

"You're too short ... OUCH!"

"I'm not short. You're freakishly tall. Now shut the fuck up and give your big brother a cuddle."

_Have they gone? It's very – _

"Did you just touch my ARSE??"

"I had to do something to break the mood," Ron chuckled.

"We're turning into Ginny and Hermione," said George.

_Oh, very nice._

Ron sounded like he was choking. "Come on, enough of this emotional shit. I even had Harry asking me if I'm happy last night."

"Oh, Merlin forbid someone looks out for you for a change."

"Feh. I'm alright."

"If you're not, you come to me. Understand?" George sounded quite firm.

"Who else?"

More back slapping.

_Who else? You have five – four brothers and a sister, Ron. And two parents. How can you think like that?_

"Come on, George. It's late. Time for bed."

"Ron?"

Silence.

"You want me to come with you, George?"

"Would you mind?"

"All you have to do is ask ... but I'm the outside spoon."

_SPOON??? HAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA_

"Fine. But I'd better not wake up with a woody knocking my back."

"Have you ever before?" Ron sniggered loudly.

"There's always a first time." George sniggered too.

"Don't flatter yourself, you're no Hermione ... anyway, I took care of that already, remember?"

"Oh, thank Merlin ..."

Their voices were fading away.

"I assure you ..."

_Well, that leaves me a lot to think about._

"Ginny. Are you awake?"

"You heard too?"

"Yeah." Hermione's bed creaked.

"How much?"

"I don't know, exactly. Ron's laughing woke me up, but not all the way, not until he started talking about Voldemort."

"So you came in for the second half." Ginny sighed unhappily.

"What did I miss?"

"George was worried that he's getting in yours and Ron's way." Ginny told her softly.

"I gathered that." Hermione sounded sad. "I wish it had never even crossed his mind."

"So ... so Ron was telling the truth? George isn't cramping your style?"

"Cramping my style?" Hermione snorted. "I didn't realise I had a style."

Ginny snorted too.

"Listen Ginny," Hermione's bed creaked again, "I won't lie to you. I would love some more alone time with Ron, but George is the least of our problems. Can I tell you something?"

"Anything!" _What else am I going to find out tonight?_

"Please don't take this the wrong way, but I'm really cross with Bill and Charlie."

"OK." _This is interesting. She was asleep for that bit._

"I know they're your family, so please try not to be too angry at me ... maybe I'm expecting too much."

"No, it's fine. I'm not mad," Ginny assured her, "go on."

"Well ... I've always considered you to be the ultimate family. Really close – the kind who would stick together in thick and thin. You know how disgusted I was with Percy when he pulled that stunt a couple of years ago, but he's putting every effort into making up for that now ... even though we hardly see anything of him, he always asks us how our day was, and usually manages to have a game of chess with Ron before bed – and I can tell that he's absolutely exhausted after his day at work. He's always very supportive and friendly in his own way."

"Pompous, you mean?" Ginny cut in.

"Well, yes." Hermione chuckled. "That's just his way though ... and he came through when it counted. He admitted he was wrong, in front of everyone. He didn't even try to justify himself – that's a really brave thing to do. I really respect him for that."

"Fair enough." _I can see her point. _"Go on."

"How do I put this? I appreciate everything Bill and Fleur did for us at the end of the war; taking us in after Malfoy Manor, healing me after Bellatrix tortured me. It was wonderful, and I really do appreciate it ... but Bill is just so damn dismissive of anything Ron has to say. It's quite incredibly rude, and frankly rather patronising. I expected better things from him."

"That's ... interesting." Ginny frowned into the darkness.

"I'm sorry." Hermione sounded contrite.

"Don't be. What about Charlie?"

"I suppose he's not so bad, really. He just seems to think Ron's eight years old or something. After everything Ron has done – I think that's what makes me the most cross. Your brother, Ron I mean, is ... he's just Ron. He's a good man. A brave man. He's done things those two can't even fathom, and they treat him like a small child who is to be tolerated – or humoured, in Charlies case. There's no respect there. Not at all ... and Ron's just so ..." Hermione sniffled and fell silent.

"Hermione?" _Is she crying? _"Are you OK?"

More sniffling could be heard, then a light shuffling and some nose blowing.

"I'm fine," Hermione finally said. "The saddest thing is I don't think Ron even cares what they think, you know?"

_Wow. Talk about two minds as one and all that. _

"Has Ron ever said anything like that?" Ginny asked, having heard exactly that from Ron himself not 20 minutes ago.

"Not directly, no. It's just a feeling I have. I mean, it's probably a good thing – if he doesn't, isn't it? But it feels like a bad thing. They were his hero's ... but not anymore. He still loves them, I'm sure, because they'll always be his brothers ... he's just not all that interested in what they think anymore."

"Well, they're the ones missing out! Not him!" Ginny whispered, feeling fierce. "Damn it! I'd like to knock their fool heads together."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," said Hermione, although she seemed to be suppressing laughter.

"It would make me feel better," Ginny grumbled, "I can take them both! They wouldn't know what hit them – they still think I'm about six."

"More fool them," Hermione muttered.

"No, really. I'll tell you something, Hermione. You just said exactly what Ron told George – not word for word, but pretty close. You're absolutely right in thinking he doesn't care what Bill and Charlie think. You know what he said?"

"What?"

"He said he doesn't need them. He's got you and George, and me and Harry ... and of course Mum and Dad and Percy. He said they can do and think what they want, because it's not his problem." Ginny laughed. "He also said what you did about George cramping your style – those were George's words, by the way."

"There you are then," Hermione sounded like she was smiling. "Did he also say that if Bill and Charlie managed to spend some time with George, we could have some time alone? Because it's true. I mean it when I say George isn't in our way at all ... he's been ... wonderful to me, since ... since Mum and Dad, and I can't tell you how much it's meant to me, helped me ... both Ron and George, in different ways, obviously. I – I hope I've helped George a bit too – I think I have."

"Oh, you absolutely have, believe me."

"Good. Maybe that's why I'm so cross. I know that without them both, I'd probably still be a mess – but I also know that with without Ron ... George and I would BOTH be completely at sea."

"Is he really that good?" Ginny knew the answer to this already, it was blindingly obvious, but Hermione seemed to need to talk and Ginny was enjoying listening.

"You have no idea," Hermione stated. "We've cried all over him repeatedly, it's quite embarrassing to be honest ... and he's always there, looking after us. He's always strong and steady and dependable ... and it's not fair that he has to do it all on his own."

"I'm sorry."

"What? Oh no, Ginny! I didn't mean it like that! Not you and Harry!"

"We haven't been around for you," Ginny cut in, "it's true. We haven't at all."

"You haven't been around MUCH," Hermione corrected her, "but that's because everyone wants a piece of Harry – and thank heaven you're with him, because no-one should have to go through that alone! When you've been here, though, you've both been great. So don't you go doing a Harry and blaming yourself for any of this. Do you understand me?"

"OK," Ginny agreed meekly, taken aback by the ferocity of Hermione's tone.

"Good. I'm just tired, emotional and I'm probably being overly dramatic about it all because Ron's it for me, you know?"

"OK. OK." Ginny laughed and held her hands up in defeat, despite the fact that Hermione wouldn't be able to see them in the black of the room. "So as Ron said, no problem with George, but you won't say no to more snogging time?"

"That's it exactly – and damn it, George is still hurting, Bill and Charlie should be there to support him ... it's not all about Ron and I having some snog time ... although, honestly Ginny," Hermione giggled, "we really NEED it. It's got to the point where when we finally have some time on our own we're almost tearing each other's clothes off ... I can hardly look at him across the kitchen table without wanting to drag him off somewhere."

"Oh dear." _YUCK. Get that picture out of my head, please!_

"Oh dear indeed," Hermione agreed, sounding extremely wry, "we're both so desperate we almost doing things we're not ready to do yet. Charlie gives us enough dirty looks as it is, just if we're sitting close and holding hands ... imagine what he'd do if he knew what I was thinking." Hermione huffed impatiently. "The great big git."

"The great big git," Ginny agreed, "especially because your current predicament is half his fault."

"Precisely."

"Ah well," Ginny yawned, "don't worry about it now. Leave Aunty Ginny on the case and I'll sort something out – I can't guarantee you much in the way of snogfests with Ron, but its time Bill and Charlie both pulled their heads out of their arses."

"Be gentle with them." Hermione yawned too.

"Must I?"

"Oh hell, I don't care what you do," Hermione laughed, "just don't make too much mess while you're doing it, you're Mum has more than enough to do as it is."

"Point taken. Good night, Hermione."

"Good night, Ginny."

_Oh yes, they'll get their heads out of their arses all right – and I'm going to bloody enjoy doing it._

_

* * *

  
_


	4. Monday at the Ministry

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Monday at the Ministry

* * *

Breakfast was an unusually quiet affair – much earlier than usual, so Bill and Fleur had yet to floo in.

Molly continually shot worried glances at Ron and Hermione; and jumped up from her seat often to offer them more eggs, or straighten Ron's hair, or smooth down the shoulder of Hermione's crisp white shirt.

"Mum, please," Ron finally cracked, "it's going to be OK."

"Oh, I hope so, dear. Are you sure you don't want Dad and me along too?" She fussed with his collar absently.

"No, really. It's OK. We'll be fine. Harry and Ginny will be there, so will Percy. We'll be fine, won't we Hermione?"

Hermione just nodded, not looking particularly convinced, and dropped her toast back onto her plate.

"Maybe you should wait until the last minute and then go in," George offered, white-lipped, "after the stunt they pulled on Harry that time, when he was called in about the Dementor attack."

"Percy has that covered," Ginny walked in with Harry and they both took seats together. "Morning everyone. Where's Bill and Charlie?"

"Bill will be along any moment, I'm sure," Molly told her daughter as she placed two full breakfasts in front of her and Harry. "Charlie is still asleep, I'm guessing. It seems to be a little early for him."

"Hm." Ginny opened her mouth to say something, but seemed to change her mind abruptly. "Mum, come out into the garden with me."

"Hey, George," said Harry, attacking his breakfast with almost as much enthusiasm as Ron usually did, "do you want to come today? You can if you like, you're more than welcome."

"Would you mind?" George looked surprised.

"'Course not," Harry shrugged. "I wouldn't have asked otherwise, would I?"

"OK then, is that OK with you?" George glanced at Ron and Hermione, who both nodded and looked pleased.

"You can hold our hands while we're vomiting," Hermione muttered.

"I'll hold your hand," Ron told her seriously, "because I'm not about to be sick. George here can keep your hair out of the way."

"Now that's what I call teamwork!" Arthur boomed as he came in from outside, closely followed by Molly and Ginny. "Well done, children!"

"Arthur!" Molly chided him, hiding a smirk behind her hand.

"Yes dear?" He blinked at her innocently.

"Oh, never mind, sit down and eat your breakfast."

"Yes dear."

*

"We've plenty of time," Percy told the small group with an air of importance, "I've checked and double checked – and then checked again. We're still in Courtroom 16," Percy's brows drew together as he led them to the lifts, "it's our largest courtroom, so I think we should expect the entire Wizengamot to be present."

"All of them?" Hermione squeaked, grabbing both Ron and George's hands.

"Indeed." They entered a left and Percy turned to face her, smiling kindly. "Don't worry, I've at least managed to keep the press out."

"The press?" Harry and Ginny looked horrified.

"I know." Percy shook his head, his lips drawn into a thin line.

"Do us a favour, Perce," Ron muttered close to his ear, "keep an eye out for a fat carpet beetle with funny lines around its eyes. Its Rita Skeeter.

"I beg your pardon?" Percy looked shocked.

George and Ginny looked confused.

Harry and Hermione looked shamefaced.

Ron just shrugged. "Sorry Perce ... Hermione figured it out years ago – how did you think Skeeter was getting all of those scoops for the Tri-Wizard?"

"You should have reported her," Percy frowned. "Why didn't you?"

"That was me," Hermione admitted in a tiny voice, "I blackmailed her into not publishing anything about Harry, with the threat of exposure and Azkaban. It was ... useful, later on."

Percy looked at her and smiled faintly. "I always knew you were clever," he sounded impressed. "Well, far be it for me to interfere. I did wonder what made her drop from view. That's interesting ... very interesting. You know, of course, that she's started working for The Prophet again, in the last month."

Harry and Ginny nodded, while Ron, Hermione and George shook their heads.

They left the lift and started down a long corridor.

"Oh yes, indeed she has. Nothing about Harry though. You haven't been taking The Prophet?" Percy addressed Hermione directly.

"No. I did for a week or two, but I never took it back up after we returned from Australia. Should I have been?"

"Not particularly. Its' still the same clap-trap as always ... however; weekly, Skeeter comes along with various articles about the Ministry which are always surprisingly close to the truth. Often about court hearings."

"Oh, really?"

"The Death Eater trials are closed courtroom, naturally, far too many things of a sensitive nature are put out into the open, names and such – Death Eater's plea-bargaining for lesser sentences in return for information."

"No surprises there," Ron muttered to no one in particular, although everyone nodded in agreement.

"You can understand how much of a problem it creates when Skeeter 'speculates' about the trials - and comes surprisingly close to the truth. Oh, she doesn't use names – she protects herself very well indeed, but she drops enough hints and employs sufficient innuendo to cause us immense difficulties! Just last week Janus Selwyn – you know of his older brother, Josef, he was a Death Eater, he's in Azkaban already – fled. We had been given information which could have lead to his arrest ... but this ... this is interesting."

"Selwyn, you say?" Hermione exchanged significant looks with Ron and Harry. "Percy. We could quite possibly use this to our advantage."

Percy nodded, looking highly satisfied with himself. "I said just yesterday that I would never want to make an enemy of you."

"Oh, you have no idea, Percy," Hermione smiled slowly, "absolutely no idea. Is there somewhere we can all talk, privately?"

*

_So this is the Wizengamot, then. _

Ron looked around and up. The courtroom reminded him of Luna's house – not in any way as mad and cheerful, but it had the same basic shape and vaguely claustrophobic feel.

_All those silly old farts staring at us like we're ... I don't know ... zoo exhibits or something. Most of them look like they're only here out of curiosity._

Ron twisted around to look behind him. Harry, Ginny and George waved down at him, and he suddenly felt immensely better. No matter what he had said to Hermione, or anyone else for that matter, he HAD been nervous ... almost to the point of panic. He'd just learned to conceal it better lately.

_Interesting. They wave at me and half of the old berks start whispering. I wonder what they make of all this? The Boy Who Lived coming to our hearing. It's no secret we were with him last year, everybody knows it._

"Ron," Hermione's whisper interrupted his thoughts, "it's going to be OK, isn't it?"

"Yes, Hermione," he squeezed her hand gently, "it's going to be OK." She still looked distinctly green. "Did I tell you how bloody good you look in that shirt?" He leered at her comically, not really giving a damn about their audience. "All starched up, Miss Prim and Proper ... maybe after all this is done I can take you back to the river, hmm?"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded, but she was smiling all the same, "not here! You can't talk like that here!"

"Made you smile, didn't it?" Ron pointed out, shooting her a cheeky grin and a lascivious wink.

"You're incorrigible," she giggled.

"I don't even know what that means," he pointed out reasonably, "so I'm not sorry for it."

"Don't be," she muttered, "it's what makes you YOU."

There was a sudden shuffling about and murmur of voices.

Percy's voice rang out across the room. "All stand for the Chief of the Wizengamot, Dolores Jane Umbridge."

Everyone stood. Ron was tempted to stay right where he was; but Hermione dug her nails into his palm, so he thought it best to do what he was told.

Percy spoke again. "Remain standing for the Acting Minister of Magic, Kingsley Julius Shacklebolt."

_There she is. The ugly old toad. Someone should tell her that stupid bloody bow on her head looks ridiculous._

Kingsley and Umbridge took their seats at the very front, which prompted everyone else to do so.

Umbridge payed no mind to anyone around her, aside from a small woman one row behind her. She snapped her fingers at the woman and held out her hand. The woman nervously shuffled through a stack of parchment and then handed a thick sheaf of it to Umbridge, who snatched it without a word.

"Disciplinary hearing of the eighth of June 1998," said Umbridge in a clear voice, "in regard to offences committed under the Muggleborn Registration Act and Educational Decree Number 33 by Mr Ronald Bilius Weasley and Miss Hermione Jean Granger, both currently residing at The Burrow on Damson Lane, Ottery Saint Catchpole."

She smiled down at them. "Interrogators: Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Ministry. Kingsley Julius Shacklebolt, Acting Minister of Magic. Court Scribe: Percy Ignatius Weasley."

*

"It's still all friends in together, I see," Umbridge remarked with a titter.

Hermione and Ron stared at her impassively.

_She's still wearing it! The fake locket! _Hermione felt a stab of rage at the odious woman.

"Defendants are not permitted contact with each other while on trial," Umbridge stated in a sweet voice, "please release hands, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger."

Hermione started to loosen her hold on Ron's hand, knowing perfectly well that this was true, but Ron wouldn't let go. She glanced at him through the corner of her eye. His chin was jutting out stubbornly as he looked unblinkingly up at Umbridge with what could only be described as an insolent stare. _He's magnificent! _His ears were also a very telling shade of red. _He's magnificent and very, very cross. Oh Merlin. This isn't going to end well. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound ..._

Hermione directed her attention back to the proceedings.

"The Wizengamot will recognise the hostility of Mr Weasley and Miss Granger," Umbridge said clearly.

"You can go shove it up your arse."

There was a collective gasp from all around them, and beside her Ron was laughing loudly.

"I BEG YOUR PARDON?" Umbridge bellowed in outrage. "WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME?"

"Are you deaf?"

Hermione found herself standing up. _Oh shit, what am I doing? _"I said you can go shove it up your arse. Why don't you stop posturing for everyone and get on with it?"

"Hermione." Ron tugged at her hand to get her attention – she was surprised to find him standing right beside her, "you better explain what posturing means for all the not-genius's."

"It means showing off, Ron." Hermione smiled up at him.

"I already knew that," Ron smiled right back, "I just didn't know if everyone else did."

Under the cover of the general outcry, Ron leaned over and whispered in her ear. "Look at her collar. Is that what I think it is?"

Hermione squinted a bit and then nodded. "Well spotted. I was too busy with the fake locket."

"Behave yourself then, Hermione; let's see if we can give her enough rope to hang herself. We might as well sit down and get comfortable."

_Who thought I'd live to see the day when Ron was telling ME to behave myself. Surely not I._

Settling comfortably in her seat, she watched Ron stare directly at Percy and finger his own collar.

Percy's eyes widened and he too looked at Umbridge, his jaw tightening. Then he leaned over and said something to Kingsley, who looked entirely too amused by the current proceedings. Kingsley nodded and muttered something in return before standing tall and facing the Wizengamot.

"Order, please. We'll have order!" Kingsley boomed and held his hands aloft. "You will calm yourself, Dolores. Surely you've dealt with this attitude before. I expect you to conduct yourself in a way becoming to your position and to the Ministry of Magic."

The room fell silent.

"Thank you." Kingsley took his seat, smiling blandly at Umbridge as she gaped at him. "Do you need a moment, Dolores?"

"No. Thank you, Acting Minister."

Hermione had to give Umbridge her due – she certainly recovered quickly.

"Miss Granger. Could you account for your wear-abouts from the first of August of 1997 until the second May of 1998?"

"Of course." Hermione smiled politely. "I was with Harry Potter, on the run from the Ministry of Magic."

"On the run from the Ministry of Magic," Umbridge repeated significantly with a broad smile. "Why ever would you think you'd need to do such a thing, dear?"

"Well, really," said Hermione cheerfully, "it seemed the thing to do – I wasn't originally planning to be on the run, you see, but after the Ministry fell and was taken over by Voldemort ... and Harry was deemed Undesirable Number One ... I decided it was prudent to my personal safety. Particularly after the advent of the Muggle Born Registration Commission. I think I was proved correct. I certainly didn't want my wand snapped in two."

Umbridge's' eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. She seemed to be struggling with herself ... and Hermione had to admit that she again mastered herself well.

_What a nasty piece of work you are. You didn't even flinch._

"Thank you, Miss Granger. Mr Weasley?"

"Yes?" Hermione watched him blink up at Umbridge. The insolent look was back.

"Can you account for your actions during the said time?" Umbridge smiled down at Ron.

"Yes." He nodded.

"Then you will please do so." Umbridge snapped.

Ron tilted his head to one side, and raised an eyebrow. "Where do you think I was?"

"Ministry inspectors confirmed your absence from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry due to spattergroit. However," Umbridge paused, shuffling through her stack of parchment, "you were sighted at the residence of Mr Xenophilius Lovegood on the twenty-sixth day of February this year."

"I never had spattergroit," Ron shrugged and leaned further back on his chair – a prefect study of disinterest. "I don't know where the Ministry got its information. Maybe they confused me with our family ghoul?"

"Your family ghoul?" Umbridge couldn't hide her surprise.

"Yeah," Ron studied his nails, "I charmed him to look like he had spattergroit and then gave him an old pair of my pyjamas. He wasn't complaining – he got to sleep in my room. A nice change from the attic, don't you think?"

"And your reason for this subterfuge?"

"It seemed a good idea at the time. I think I was right, don't you? Death Eaters crashed my brother's wedding when Voldemort took over the Ministry and gave everyone a hard time ... well, that's what I was told anyway, I was with Harry and Hermione."

While Ron had been speaking, Hermione took the opportunity to study the general Wizengamot. She was quite happy with what she saw. Everyone looked interested, yes – but when various members caught her eye they smiled in a very encouraging way.

_That's got to be a good sign._

"You speak quite often of when Voldemort took over the Ministry," Umbridge said in a simpering voice. _OLD HAG! _"But I assure you that you personally, Mr Weasley, were in no danger."

"Oh, I know that." Ron laughed and it sounded brittle to Hermione. _Oh dear, there go his ears again. _"I'm a pure blood. I could have easily fallen back on that useful piece of information." He leaned forward, he elbows on his knees. "I didn't want too, though. I'm happy to be considered a blood traitor – and I'm proud that Hermione and I helped finish Voldemort off. Not all of us switch sides whenever it's most convenient to ourselves, you know."

"That's very admirable, I'm sure," Umbridge tittered, "but it isn't the point, is it? Both you and Miss Granger broke Ministry laws. Your motives may have been noble, but the fact remains to be seen that your actions were illegal. Miss Granger, as a muggle born, did not present herself for registration and you, Mr Weasley, deliberately mislead Ministry officials. Furthermore, you were both absent from your seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, when attendance was compulsory."

"True, true," said Ron and turned to Hermione. "She has a good point."

"If you say so, Ron." Hermione smiled at him.

"Good job the press isn't here, isn't it?" Ron laughed, taking her hand again.

"I completely agree," Hermione's eyes widened, "can you imagine the headlines?"

"Dead embarrassing for Harry, really," said Ron, turning around and giving Harry an apologetic shrug.

"Don't worry about it," Harry called down to them, "it's illegal to leak anything out of a closed courtroom to the press, Wizarding law mate."

"Oh, well, that's not so bad." Ron turned back to Hermione. "We did break a couple of laws."

"They were ludicrous laws though," Hermione pointed out reasonably, "I mean, really. Thickness was under the Imperius curse."

"He was too," Ron agreed. "You know when Crouch was under the Imperius and Percy did as he was ordered, there was an enquiry."

"There was too." Hermione looked sympathetically over at Percy. "You were in quite a bit of trouble over that, isn't that right, Percy?"

"I most certainly was," Percy gave one of his sanctimonious little nods, his lips twitching upward, "and rightly so. Some of his orders really were quite ludicrous."

"Not as ludicrous as the Muggleborn Registration Commission though, I'd guess," Ron suggested.

"No. Not as ludicrous as that," Percy agreed, "even I balked at that one."

"I wonder if there will be an enquiry." Hermione fixed her gaze on Umbridge, who had steadily been turning a rather pleasing shade of grey.

"There really should be," Percy put in, "it's only fair. Don't you agree, Kingsley?"

Kingsley chuckled. "I couldn't agree more, Percy. What do you think, Dolores? You were the inquisitor at Percy Weasley's enquiry, isn't that right?"

Umbridge opened her mouth and shut it again, nodding mutely.

"That's a lovely brooch you're wearing, Dolores," Hermione interrupted suddenly. "You don't mind if I call you Dolores, do you?"

Umbridge gaped at her in shock.

"Do you wear it often?" Hermione pressed on. "I'd love to have one like it, it's so pretty."

"It's a family heirloom, dear," Umbridge muttered vaguely, "I doubt you'll find another like it."

"What a pity," Hermione smiled, "it's quite distinctive."

"Yes. Made for my mother," Umbridge was getting back into her stride again.

"You wear it often, I assume." Hermione asked her sharply.

"I really can't think what business that would be of yours, Miss Granger," Umbridge said, frowning suddenly.

"No, you're probably right." Hermione inclined her head.

"I think that's enough." Kingsley said.

"Enough?" Ron asked, looking disappointed.

Kingsley pointed his wand at Umbridge. "Animagus Revelio."

"This is an interesting turn of events, don't you think Hermione?"

"Yes, I think it is, Ron."

The entire Wizengamot were shocked into silence as they watched Rita Skeeter struggle to extricate herself from Umbridge's' lap.

"Now we know where all the leaks have been coming from," Percy announced loudly with immense satisfaction. "Dear, dear. I think this calls for an enquiry, don't you, Dolores?"

"No Percy." Kingsley shook his head. "This calls for an arrest. Possibly two – but that is entirely dependent on how much Miss Skeeter is prepared to tell us."


	5. Going for a Trip

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Going for a Trip

* * *

"And then Hermione said 'You can go shove it up your arse!'" George told the laughing crowd.

An impromptu get-together had been called at The Burrow and everyone was celebrating with wild abandon. Half of the Wizengamot was there, as well as most of the people from Kingsley's office. They'd even managed to get hold of Professor McGonagall, who was usually so difficult to tear away from Hogwarts; and even more surprising, Hagrid – who had only just arrived back from a holiday in France that very morning.

"I nearly had a fit when she said that," Ron laughed, "I couldn't believe it! Hermione Granger said ARSE!"

"Oh, that's enough, you two!" Hermione was covering her face with her hands.

More laughter followed.

"I want a word with you," Ginny pulled Charlie to one side.

Charlie grinned. "They're bloody lucky they got away with it, aren't they? Who would have thought?"

"Lucky, yeah," Ginny pursed her lips, dragging him away from the crowd, "we need to find Bill. I have to show you both something." She stood on her toes and scanned the crowded room. "There he is. BILL!" She waved frantically. "BILL!"

Fleur caught her eye, nudged her husband in the ribs and they fought their way over to Ginny and Charlie.

"What's up, Ginny?" said Bill.

"I'm sorry." Ginny addressed Fleur, "could I borrow Bill for a little while? I need his help with something."

"But of course," Fleur waved an airy hand, "anyzing you need, Ginny."

"Thanks, Fleur. I really appreciate it," Ginny smiled happily; "we shouldn't be more than 45 minutes."

Fleur gave Bill a lingering kiss and then slipped back into the crowd.

"Nice girl, that one, when you get used to her," said Ginny, staring up at Bill, "I don't know what she's doing with you."

"Ha ha, Ginny." Bill chuckled.

The smile slipped her Ginny's face. "No, really. I don't." She scanned the room again. "Where's Kingsley?" she muttered to herself.

"Right here, Ginny," Kingsley said, walking up behind her.

"Merlin, you've got ears on you like a cat, I swear!" Ginny laughed up at him.

"A lynx actually," said Kingsley easily. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, thanks for this, Kingsley."

"Happy to oblige, Ginny. Happy to oblige." Kingsley took Bills arm and held it firm while Ginny did the same thing with Charlie.

*

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" Bill was gasping for breath.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING? YOU'RE NOT OF AGE! THAT WAS ILLEGAL APPARITION!" Charlie wrenched is arm from Ginny's grasp.

"Would you two shut up," Ginny snapped, "see what I have to put up with?"

Kingsley just chuckled, pointed his wand at the door in front of them and lead the way in when it sprung open. "Ginny has a special apparition licence, owing to the circumstances. I assure you she passed her test with flying colours – I over saw it myself."

"What circumstances?" Bill demanded.

"How does that work?" Charlie wanted to know.

"SHUT UP," Ginny glared at them, "really, that is quite enough."

They fell silent in surprise.

"Why don't you both take a seat?" Kingsley suggested kindly as he crossed the room and opened the doors to an old, black corner cabinet. "There you are!" He hefted a silver bowl back to his desk and set it down carefully. "It's all yours."

"Thanks a bunch," Ginny hugged him quickly, making him laugh.

"I'll see you all back at The Burrow, unless you want me to stay?"

"No, I'll be fine," she assured him, "make sure you lock the door properly before you go, though – I don't know which charms you use for it."

"And you never will, missy!" Kingsley ruffled her hair. "I wouldn't trust you as far as I can throw you."

"You probably have a good point," Ginny giggled as he pointed his wand and the door and it momentarily glowed purple.

"Later on, then," Kingsley nodded to Bill and Charlie, and grinned his slow grin at Ginny; then he grabbed a handful of floo powder from a pewter cup on the mantle, threw it in the fireplace and was gone in a whoosh of green flames.

"Now," Ginny rounded on her two oldest brothers, "it's time we had a little talk."

They nodded mutely, like two marionettes on string.

"You're both being arseholes and I won't stand for it." She pulled her wand out and pointed it at them, feeling a moment of grim satisfaction when they both flinched. "Don't be such babies; I'm not going to do anything to you. Just for the sake of clarity, we're in the Acting Minister of Magic's private rooms. Not everyone gets to come in here, and those who do are here by invitation only. Do you understand?" She waited until they both nodded. "Good. We're here because he's good mates with Harry and he quite likes me, too – you treat this place with respect, got it? If you lose your temper; you DON'T throw or break anything, because it's Kingsley's stuff not the Ministry's."

While she was speaking, she held her wand to her head and pulled out a strand of silver thread.

"These are my memories from really early this morning, just before breakfast and at breakfast," she coaxed the silvery strand into the bowl. "You're both going to take a little trip. I can promise you that I've not messed with any of it, what you see is what you get – and you'd be able to tell if I had. But before you go, I've got some questions and something to say."

"Ginny?" Bill asked carefully. "What's going on?"

Ginny breathed loudly through her nose and rolled her eyes. "We're in Kingsley's office to borrow his pensieve, so you can see my fucking memory. What was so hard to understand about that? Charlie. Percy told me about your little chat at the market yesterday," she suddenly looked very like their mother, "break it down for me."

"Eh, sure. You and Ron aren't little kids, Harry Potter is allowed to snog you and I should spend more time with George."

"Very good. Did any of it sink in?" She demanded.

Charlie frowned. "Of course it did."

"OK then. Percy also told me he gave you the job of passing it on to Bill. Have you done it yet?"

"Not yet." Charlie was suddenly defensive. "I was going to do it when we had a moment alone; there hasn't been time yet – what, with the party going on and everything."

"It's OK, Ginny," Bill interrupted, "I get the picture – there's no need for you to go all Mum on us."

"You think so, do you?" Ginny said quietly. "Bloody hell. You don't get the picture at all, Bill. And YOU!" she pointed at Charlie, incensed, "have had ALL FUCKING MORNING!! We didn't get home until half-twelve! What was stopping you from MAKING a moment alone with him?" She held one hand up. "No, I don't want to hear it. Another word and I'll hex you both. Don't think I couldn't either, I've got your wands you IDIOTS."

Bill and Charlie stared at each other, speechless.

"That's right. I stole them just before we left The Burrow and you didn't even notice," she looked disgusted. "Let's talk about the party now."

"What about it?" Bill mumbled while Charlie shot her a resentful glare.

"What's it for?" Ginny asked, her lips thin.

"Because Ron and Hermione were called before the Wizengamot on charges of truancy, misinformation and ... what was the other one?" Bill looked over at Charlie.

"Non-registration," Charlie supplied, still glowering at Ginny.

"Oh, so you did actually know then?" Ginny snapped. "And where the hell were you two, this morning? Where was the show of support for two members of your family?"

"Don't be stupid Ginny," Bill laughed, "is that was THIS is about? As if those charges were ever going to stick, they were ridiculous."

"What was so ridiculous about them?" Ginny wanted to know. "They were actually true. Ron was guilty of misleading the ministry, with the ghoul. Hermione didn't register as a muggleborn and neither of them did their seventh."

"Anyway," Charlie grumbled, "Hermione isn't really part of the family, Ginny. I know she's Ron's girl friend, and your mate, and all that, but I think you're being a bit dramatic. Like Bill said, it's not like the charges were ever going to stick – even if they were true. Ron's best mates with Harry Potter."

Ginny was pleased to see that even Bill cringed at Charlies words.

"Don't be such a pig, Charlie. Hermione is not just Ron's girlfriend, which you'd know if you payed any attention at all. Mum and Dad have practically adopted her. She's been a sister to me for years – George worships the ground she walks on, which you'd also know if you spent any time with HIM at all." Ginny took a deep breath to calm herself. "And Ron is in love with her for Merlin sake ... which even Bill knows. Don't you?"

"That's true." Bill confirmed.

"Fine," Charlie shrugged, "I stand corrected. What's your damn point?"

"Get your both of your damn arses in that fucking pensieve right now," Ginny ordered, "I'll be here when you get back."

*

"Since when did Ginny swear so bloody much?" Bill grumbled into the blackness.

"I don't fucking know. Since when did she get so bloody bossy?" Charlie grumbled right back. "Where the hell are we?"

"No idea – wait – what was that?" Bill whispered.

"Bloody hell, George! You scared the crap out of me!"

"That's Ron!" said Charlie.

*

Ginny flicked through yet another copy of Which Broomstick with little to no interest.

_I have to talk to Kingsley about getting more reading material in here._

She glanced at her watch and then got out of her seat – well, Kingsley's extremely comfortable and plush leather swivel chair – and peered into the pensieve. Nothing but darkness, so she knew they were still in her bedroom – by now listening to her conversation with Hermione.

She'd seriously thought about leaving that one out; given the direction part of it had gone, but in the end she'd decided that it would do the two lummocks good to have to sit through all of it.

The pensieve turned light before her eyes and she heaved a sigh of relief – they had moved on to her memory of talking to Harry just before breakfast.

*

_"None of this really surprises you, does it?" Ginny asked, resting her head on his shoulder as his arms circled around her._

_"I wouldn't go that far," said Harry, pressing a kiss on her hair, "I would have thought better of Bill and Charlie, to be honest."_

_"And Ron's not mentioned it to you at all?"_

_"Not a word. THAT doesn't surprise me though. We keep it pretty light, these days ... there's too much going on, you know? Sometimes it's just good to hang out together and not drag through the shit of the day."_

_"I guess I can understand that," Ginny admitted, "life has been pretty intense these last couple of years."_

_"In the worst way," Harry agreed, "and he's been in the thick of it ... you know what, though?"_

_"What?"_

_"I'm not surprised at all that he feels that way – about them."_

_"Really? Why? It shocked the hell out of me," Ginny protested, pulling back a bit._

_"You have to understand, Ginny," Harry led her over to his bed and they sat together, "all his life Ron felt like he was in the shadows of his brothers. He told me the first day we met, on the train."_

_"I didn't know he felt that way," Ginny's chin wobbled dangerously._

_"Shhhh, don't cry." Harry wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her upper arm. "He doesn't feel that way now – I'm talking about before. He told me how Bill was Head Boy and Charlie was this great big Quiddich star, and Percy was really smart and a prefect and all that ... even Fred and George, he said, they got in trouble all the time, but they were still really smart and everyone loved them because they were so funny."_

_"Oh."_

_"Yeah. Oh. He felt like he was expected to do just as well, but even if he did it wouldn't matter because they'd already done it before him. You know what else?"_

_"What?"_

_"Knowing what I know about wands now, I don't think it helped at all that he didn't start school with his own. I know that was just circumstances that couldn't be helped, but wands just don't work as well for someone they've not chosen themselves – so even his magic wasn't as good as it could have been, until he got a new one between second and third."_

_"By which time, he probably thought he was just really average at magic," Ginny nodded, "and the idea stuck."_

_"Yeah." Harry ran his hand through his hair, trying to press it flat. "I'm glad he knows now, though ... because he's actually the best of all of them."_

_Ginny laughed at that. "You have to say that, you're his best mate."_

_"I'm his best mate for a reason." Harry corrected her. "And he's proving it right now, as we speak ... he proved it all this last year when we were on the horcrux hunt ... and he proved it when he was 12."_

_"When he was 12?" Ginny chuckled._

_"When I save the Philosophers Stone from Voldemort," Harry explained. "I might have saved the stone, but Hermione got me through Snape's potion puzzle – and we wouldn't have got that far if Ron hadn't played us across McGonagall's giant chess board. You know what he did, don't you?"_

_"Played a really good game of chess?" Ginny offered._

_"That too." Harry laughed, but sobered immediately. "He KNEW he was going to get it from that Queen; he could have been killed but he told us what moves we had to do next and he just kept right on going, because it was the only way."_

_"I didn't know that," said Ginny softly._

_"Well now you do. If he hadn't done that, Hermione and I couldn't have got through – Voldemort would have got the stone and returned 3 years earlier and I'd probably be dead. We wouldn't have found out about the horcruxes and the Wizarding world would be in deep, deep shit right now."_

_"So what you're saying is that when Ron was 12 years old he saved the Wizarding World."_

_"That's right." Harry nodded. "So try and tell me he's not the best of them, now!"_

*

_Surely they're almost done!_

Ginny swing back and forth on the chair. Then she swung in circles. She was just about to start picking at her nails when Bill and Charlie landed on the office floor with a clatter.

"Finally," she muttered to herself, watching them passively. They looked quite shaken. _Good. _"Bit of a trip, isn't it? Swanning around in someone else's memory."

"You could say that, yes," Bill muttered, rubbing his face.

"Given you something to think about?" she asked lightly, removing her feet from Kingsley's desk and leaning over to collect her memories back from the pensieve.

Charlie nodded, unable to say anything at all.

"So what did we learn?" Ginny pointed her wand at the pensieve and they all watched it float into the corner cabinet. With another flick of her wand, the cabinet doors snapped shut.

"I feel like a real arse-hole." Charlie was still staring at the cabinet.

"Me too." Bill agreed.

"Then my work here is done," Ginny pronounced. She turned to Bill. "So were you actually pissed off because Ron wouldn't tell you what they were doing?"

"Yeah," Bill sighed, "I'm going to have to get over that."

"You are," Ginny shook her head, "why can't you understand that he COULDN'T tell you? It was Dumbledore's orders, Bill. What would have happened if you knew? What if you got caught by Death Eaters and they forced you to take veritaserum?"

"I hadn't thought about that," Bill admitted.

"Obviously not," Ginny snorted. "No one knew about the horcruxes for that very reason." She turned to Charlie. "Do you think you could manage to start treating us like we're adults now?"

"Yeah, I can try." Charlie agreed.

"You'd best do more than try," Ginny chuckled, "Ron is a much nicer person than I am, at heart, much nicer. He'll just ignore your bullshit, as long as it's only directed at him ... I can't guarantee your safety if he see's you look at Hermione the wrong way, though." She laughed at his pained expression. "I'm not kidding. I won't ignore your bullshit the way he will ... so if either of you keep up your rubbish, especially talking down to Ron and not spending enough time with George, I'll be dealing with your myself."

Bill and Charlie glanced at each other nervously.

"You know Mum was about to talk to you about George anyway, she's not happy about it and she's REALLY not happy about your non-appearance at breakfast – but I asked her not to say anything to you about it when you decided to show your faces."

"Why, exactly?" Bill asked.

"Because I wanted to talk to you myself," Ginny shrugged, "don't you think she's got enough to do? Enough to think about? She doesn't know just how arsey you've both been, neither does Dad, and they don't need to. Hell, I didn't know until I overheard George and Ron. Mum put a bug in my ear about giving Ron and Hermione some time to themselves, but if it had been just that we wouldn't be here now."

"OK, you've made your point, Ginny. Bill and I are both sorry, really."

"So what are you going to do about it? Ron first."

"Apologise, for a start," Bill stated.

"You'll do no such thing!" Ginny frowned.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't use that tone with me, Bill." Ginny curled her lip. "Neither of you will apologise, because when we leave this room we will never speak of it again. EVER. If you apologise to Ron he's going to slap you on the back, tell you it's all fine and forgive you in a heart-beat, because he's nice like that. I'm not, remember? I don't think you deserve it.

"That's harsh, Ginny," Charlie was shocked.

"Oh well." She half-shrugged. "You heard what he said. He doesn't give a shit what you think of him. You both need to earn that back without asking him for it – or it's not going to mean as much, is it?"

"So what do we do?" Bill asked.

"Just make friends with them both. When they're not being giant gits, they're both really good fun to be around. So are Harry and Hermione," Ginny glared at Charlie then, "they're here to stay, so you might as well get used to them ... yeah, and I'm not so bad myself, when I'm not driven to distraction by my mentally challenged brothers. Make friends with all of us, we already have Mum and Dad to be our parents, we don't need more."

"Is that right?" Charlie chuckled, accepting her glare with good grace.

"Where does Percy fit in to all of this?"

"Percy isn't a problem, Bill. You're both already friends with him anyway. He's fine. An uptight pain in the arse, true ... but he's good and he knows the deal, he's not home much – even less than me and Harry – but when he is he put the effort in, and he worries like hell about them."

"How do you know?"

"Because Percy has lunch with Ginny and Harry at work, Bill," Charlie said, "he told me yesterday."

"Come on, I've had enough of this." Ginny sprung up suddenly. "I'm hungry, let's go home. Just stop being arses and be our friends, OK?"

"We can't argue with an offer like that, can we?" Bill grinned.

"Does that mean we can have our wands back now?" Charlie asked hopefully.

"What?" Ginny laughed and took them from the back pocket of her jeans, dropping them on Kingsley's desk. "Be more careful next time, you were disarmed by a 16 year old, for Merlin sake, and you didn't even know it."


	6. Let's all pick on Charlie

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Let's all pick on Charlie

* * *

"Ron, can I talk to you?" George asked quietly amid the babble in the kitchen.

"Sure." Ron kissed the top of Hermione's head and extracted himself from her arms, leaving her to talk to Fleur and Ginny. "It's loud in here," he added redundantly, "we'll go on the porch."

"Excellent news about Kingsley giving Hermione the job of overseeing Umbridge's case," George remarked as they sat on the porch swing-seat.

"She'll have her work cut out for her," Ron grinned, bringing a bottle of butter beer up to his lips, "sorting through Umbridge's mess."

"Best person for the job though," George laughed.

"Poetic justice, you might say," Ron agreed and then added, "ask Hermione, she can explain it."

"Do you think the old toad is going to end up in Azkaban?" George asked curiously.

"She will if Hermione has anything to do with it. The gig is up, as the muggles would say."

"I never understood that phrase," George chuckled, "I thought a gig had something to do with music?"

"Yeah, well ... can't see what poetry has to do with justice either," said Ron, "but it seems to fit."

"What are you going to do with yourself while Hermione's at work every day?"

"Dunno. Probably hang around the Ministry all day waiting for her to take time for lunch," Ron sniggered.

"You mean making sure she doesn't forget to eat it."

"Same thing," Ron nodded.

"I've got something that could keep you busy, if you want it." George offered.

"What's that, mate?"

"I've decided to re-open. It's time." George looked at Ron pleadingly and grabbed his arm. "I'm going to need help."

Ron's face split in a wide grin. "You want me?"

"Who else? Git." George shook his head in exasperation.

"Is this a private party?" Heavy footsteps clomped along the old wooden porch, "Or is there room for more?"

"Hey Charlie," Ron nodded, "nothing private about this, grab some stair."

"Move your arse," George shoved Ron closer to the railing and shifted over himself, to make room for their older brother.

"What are you two doing out here on your own?"

"Too loud," George chortled, "I'm trying to talk business and I can hardly hear myself think."

"Business?"

"I was telling Ron that it's time to re-open Weasley's Wizarding Wheezers," George explained, "he's giving me a hand."

"Good on you," said Charlie. "If you ever need an extra hand you know I'm around for another few weeks."

"Excellent." George sniggered, "you can do all the heavy lifting, and take over the counter when Ron's at lunch whispering sweet nothing's at Hermione."

"Works for me," Ron grinned, holding out one large hand and examining it carefully, "I wouldn't want to break a nail ... and I definitely intend to do loads of 'whispering' as you call it."

"Surprising about Hermione," said Charlie.

"Not really," George disagreed, "I was just saying she's the best person for it."

"Really?" Charlie eyed them curiously and then suddenly remembered Ginny's warning in regards to Hermione.

"She is," said Ron, smiling slightly, "Umbridge won't know what's hit her." Ron laughed suddenly, and nudged George in the ribs. "Remember those bloody homework planners Hermione gave me and Harry for Christmas during fifth?"

"Nope," George said while George merely drank more of his fire-whiskey – he'd been away that Christmas.

"Homework and Revision Planners," Ron chortled, "every day broken down by the hour."

"That's our girl," George grinned. "Did you ever use them?"

"Hell no!" Ron snorted rudely. "I did try, really, but whenever the damn things were open they'd come out with some pithy comment like 'A good beginning makes a good end', they were a nightmare! It's still in the bottom of my trunk."

Both Charlie and George laughed at that.

"Percy said she's extremely clever," Charlie offered, prodding for information.

"The brightest witch of her age, maybe even THE age," George nodded, sounding proud and nudging Ron, "how many OWLS did she get again?"

"Nine Outstanding's and one Exceeds Expectations ... she was so disappointed about the Exceeds Expectations, I recon she was almost going to ask McGonagall to let her re-take the Defence OWL."

"That's sick," George said, wrinkling his nose and shuddering elaborately, "she's mental."

"Mental, but very thorough," Ron pointed out, "yeah, Kingsley knows what he's doing."

"I would have thought Kingsley would have something for you too," said George, watching Ron carefully.

"Git." Ron grinned. "I know you saw us talking. He's got something for me, but he can't make an offer until he's made permanent."

"Well, what is it?" Charlie demanded, inserting himself back into the conversation.

"Auror training."

"YES!" George pumped his fist in the air triumphantly. "When do you start?"

"I'm not taking it."

"WHAT?" George glared at Ron furiously.

"WHY?" Charlie demanded.

"I've already got a job," said Ron simply.

"You're sacked!" George told him hotly, "go and be an Auror."

"Don't be a git, George," Ron laughed, slapping him on the leg. "Do you think I did bloody Potions and Transfiguration in sixth for fun? I want to be an Auror – I'm just not taking it YET. I knew you'd get the shop up and running sooner rather than later, so I asked Kingsley how long I had to accept his offer. It's open-ended, mate, so I can take it whenever I want. There's no rush."

"Oh ... FUCK YEAH! That's excellent!" George yelled.

"Kingsley would do that for you?" Charlie wondered out loud.

"Amazing isn't it?" Ron rolled his eyes slightly and Charlie detected, for the first time, just an infinitesimal hint of impatience in his youngest brother. Maybe it was the dry tone he used, or the slight tightening of his jaw. Whatever it was, it was gone as quickly as it had come.

Clearly George had also noticed, because he slapped Ron on the back and said, "Totally amazing. Fight a few Death Eaters, defeat the odd Dark Lord and the Minister of Magic seems to think a bit of respect is in order ... what's the world coming too?"

"So!" George clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously, "a day of rest tomorrow and then up bright and early to start work on Wednesday. Are we on?"

"I'll be there with bells on." Ron drained the last of his butter beer and struggled up from the step, grinning down at both of his brothers. "I'm looking forward to it ... I'm off to tell Hermione, she'll be so happy you're starting up again." He went back inside, leaving George and Charlie on their own.

"You're lucky, you know," George said conversationally, "if you had said something like that to Ron last year he would have been really offended and probably even goaded you into a fight."

"I know," Charlie admitted, "it came out the wrong way."

"See that it doesn't again," said George mildly. "You want another drink?"

"Sure." Charlie watched George summon two bottles from the house.

"So, Charles," George leaned back against the railing and looked his brother straight in the eye, "what did Ginny do to you and Bill, and why did she need Kingsley's personal office to do it?"

"What?" Charlie choked on a mouthful of butter beer.

"Come on, Charlie. Don't play dumb with me. I know something's up. Since when does she need Kingsley to escort her to the Ministry? She's there every day. And since when did she need you and Bill for heavy lifting? She's had her own wand for a few years now, you know."

"Oh." Charlie really didn't want to be having this conversation. Ginny's words rang in his ears_: We will never speak of it again. EVER._ He didn't particularly want to find out what she was capable of.

"Oh?" George's eyebrows raised a fraction. "I'm sure Ginny is talented enough to levitate a few boxes – and when you came back she looked pretty pleased with herself."

"Smart, aren't you?" Charlie said evasively.

"I can put two and two together," George inclined his head, "what did she do to you?"

"That's none of your business," Charlie tried to smile; "she'll tell you if she wants."

"No she won't," George snorted, "or she already would have – and it is my business. She was ready to spit nails at breakfast, when you and Bill hadn't put in an appearance by the time we left. So was Harry, by the way. Then she ropes Kingsley into dragging you off and Kingsley comes back on his own ... and now you're here being all INTERESTED." George narrowed his eyes and pointed the neck of his bottle at his older brother. "Don't lie to me, Charlie. Snape and Dumbledore weren't the only Legilimens at Hogwarts, you know. I haven't used it since school – but that doesn't mean I can't."

"I'd rather you didn't, thanks very much." Charlie's lips were a thin white line and he looked quickly at his shoes. He really didn't like being put in this kind of position by someone six years younger than him. "It's an invasion of privacy. Let's just say Bill and I needed reminding about a couple of things, and leave it at that."

George didn't look satisfied.

"Listen," Charlie huffed, "Ginny told us to never speak of it again. I don't think arguing with her is a good idea."

"Value your manhood, do you?" George said wryly.

Charlie shot him a disgruntled look. "I damn well do."

"I can accept that. A man should always protect his bollocks." George leaned forward suddenly. "That's why we're nice to Hermione."

"Huh?" Charlie was taken aback – and more than a little sick of the lectures from his younger siblings.

"Not that it's hard work, she's an absolute peach," George went on, as if Charlie hadn't spoken, "but you should keep in mind that she knows more spells than Mum and Ginny put together, bloody good ones too – permanent, unbreakable ones. Get Ginny to tell you about Marietta The Sneak. Hermione is not someone I'd like to get on the wrong side of."

"You know what?" Charlie snapped. "I've heard all this before – more than once – and it's getting old."

"And yet you still persist in insulting both Ron and Hermione," George shrugged. "Maybe you need to hear it again."

"When did I insult either of them?" Charlie was suddenly furious. "Maybe you're all just too bloody sensitive for your own good."

"Or maybe you've been keeping company with dragons more than humans," George hissed, "because you seem to have forgotten that human relations need a certain degree of sensitivity."

"Since when have you talked like that?" Charlie scoffed.

"Been hanging around with Hermione Granger," said George dismissively, "some of it was bound to rub off eventually. She once accused Ron of having the emotional range of a tea-spoon, he really did too – but HE grew out of it." He stared hard at Charlie, the challenge clearly written on his face.

"Whenever you talk to Ron like he's a kid, or act surprised when he or Hermione get the respect they deserve, you insult them. I won't stand for it, Charlie. Not from you, and not from Bill. To tell the truth, he's far worse than you are. I don't know when he shoved the stick up his arse, because he never used to be like that ... but if it ever comes up in conversation, you could let him know that I offered to pull it out, sharpen it, and then shove it up further."

_He's really serious. I can't believe it. Surely we've not THAT bad .... are we? _"Why don't you tell him yourself?"

"If Ginny's had her say, I shouldn't have to," George pointed out. "He's never taken me that seriously anyway. He'll listen to you."

"Listen, George," Charlie said earnestly, "I didn't know I was being such a git, OK? I'm out here because I'm trying to make up for it ... but things have changed and it's taking some getting used to. Maybe I have been around dragons for too long, I don't know – they certainly don't talk as much as you and Ginny ... or Percy."

"No one talks as much as Percy." George laughed.

"Point. But that's the thing. I'm not used to it anymore. When I'm at work I slog my guts out, try not to get burned or chewed up, then after work I sit around with the other keepers. We drink some fire whiskey and then I go to bed. There's not a lot of time for anything else. Dragons aren't subtle creatures, and neither are dragon keepers."

"That's perfectly reasonable," George admitted. "Just remember that none of us are ten years old, and some of us just helped save the world, and you'll be fine. Now come on," George slapped Charlie's leg, "let's go party, because come Wednesday you aren't going to know what hit you."

Charlie allowed George to pull him up, surprised that George did so with little effort. "What do you mean?"

"You'll be working for me." George laughed again. "At home you might be my brother, but at the shop I'm the boss. I don't take shit from anyone, and I don't put up with slackers."

*

"You've been naughty." Harry flicked Ginny's nose with his finger.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ginny demurred, fisting his shirt-front into her hands and pulling around to the side of the house, away from the crowd.

"I think you do." Harry stepped closer, leaning his hands on the rough stone wall, on either side of her shoulders.

Ginny tilted her head to one said, her lips parting. "Maybe." She took off his glasses, folded them carefully and quite deliberately slid them into his shirt pocket.

"I know what you did," his lips grazed hers, "it was a stroke of brilliance."

"We'll see." She slid her arms around his waist as their noses brushed.

Her mouth was soft under his, as always, and he felt his worries slipping away – as they always did in moments like that.

As he sunk into her he was dimly aware of someone clearing their throat.

His entire being screamed at him to ignore this intrusion, to cling tighter to the blissful feeling that was kissing Ginny Weasley ... but it was not to be.

Reluctantly he pulled away and turned to face the interloper.

"My apologies for the interruption," Professor McGonagall spoke formally, but there was hint of amusement in her usually severe expression.

"Professor!" Harry and Ginny sprung apart.

"I have come to bid you both farewell, for the present." The professors eyes flicked from Harry to Ginny and back again. "I'm sorry I haven't had more time to speak with you both."

Harry noticed the older woman was looking unusually tired. Not wanting to pry, but slightly concerned, he said, "How are things going, with Hogwarts? The rebuilding?"

"Very slowly," she admitted, "we will be ready enough to begin the school year on schedule, however I had been hoping for more progress, but with Hagrid returned things should move along more quickly."

"Do you need more help?" Harry asked, glancing at Ginny, who nodded slightly. "We could ..."

"Thank you, Harry, but that will not be necessary. I am well aware of how busy you both have been."

"Professor," Ginny put in quietly, "Harry's duties at the Ministry are slowing down now."

"That's true," Harry agreed, "we've seen ... we've seen all the families who lost someone ... and visited everyone in St Mungo's."

"We'd be happy to help, if you need us," Ginny concluded.

"I don't know what to say ... " Professor McGonagall smiled at them both.

"Say you'll see us next week, at Hogwarts," Ginny said promptly.

"Well then. I will see you both at Hogwarts next week."

*

George sidled up to Hermione and pulled gently at the long, thick plait which hung half-way down her back. "Having fun?"

Hermione jumped and spun around, slapping at his hand. "Yes, I'm having a great time. You?"

"Simply spiffing," George grinned. "I've got an idea," he whispered in her ear.

"What's that?"

"I can cover for you, for up to one hour, no longer. Grab your git of a boyfriend and go!"


	7. Easy Like Wednesday Morning

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

I'd like to thank everyone who left reviews - totally awesome of you, really! :-D

Updates on this might (or might not) be few and far between. It's summer holidays for the ferals, and with one computer between the four of us its a bit of a battle to get time on - apparently Runescape, Halo and Moshi Monsters are FAR more important than some old fanfic thingy that Mum likes. *G*

Ugh. I just added a tiny edit, realising that I'd forgotten someone pretty important. Terrible.

* * *

Easy Like Wednesday Morning

* * *

Wednesday morning at The Burrow found Ron and Hermione up with the sun and taking a turn in the garden before breakfast.

Presently they were in the casually arranged vegetable plot; watching several gnomes scuffling over a fat white grub among the cabbages.

"Must be time for a de-gnoming," said Ron, highly amused.

"I can't wait," Hermione laughed.

"Why?" Ron sniggered, "it's not like Mum ever makes you do it."

"I know," Hermione said, sounding mischievous, "I happen to enjoy the show."

"The show?" Ron looked blank. "What show?"

"You get all hot and sweaty," Hermione told him lightly, "sometimes you even take your shirt off."

"Oh." Ron burst into laughter, throwing his arm around her as they continued on to the small, rocky frog-pond. "I'll remember that for next time."

"Do that ..." they peered into the murky dark water. "I'm going to miss you today."

"I'm going to miss you too," he squeezed her shoulder gently, "but think of all the exciting things we'll have to talk about after dinner tonight. You'll come for lunch today, won't you?"

"Absolutely." Hermione nodded vigorously, "I'll want to check on you, make sure you're OK. How do you think George will ..." her voice trailed off.

Ron shrugged. "I don't know, it's not going to be easy for him. He needs to do it though."

"He does," Hermione agreed with a small sigh. "Let's collect the eggs while we're here."

"I'll do it," Ron ducked into the chicken coop, "you don't want to get all feathery ... I, um, I like that – you look nice."

She blushed self-consciously and smooth down her tailored pinstriped skirt automatically. "Thanks," she mumbled.

"It fits really well," he added with a glint in his eye as he came back out into the garden, carrying a small sack full of eggs. "You look all official-like, prim and proper."

Hermione laughed at that. "You like it when I look prim and proper, don't you."

"Oh yeah." His eyes raked her from head to toe. "You look like one of those muggle librarians, but much, much better ... I'll take it as a personal challenge, later on, to mess you up a bit."

"I'll look forward to it," Hermione murmured as they came to the porch and swapped their garden shoes to ones for the house.

"Good morning Hermione, Ron ... oh, you've got the eggs. Thank you so much," said Molly from her place at the kitchen counter, "I was just about send Dad to collect those. Sit, sit." She bustled them to the table. "I've a pot of tea ready; breakfast will be along in just a moment."

"I must say," Molly lowered her voice, "I'm so glad George is doing this," she touched Ron's shoulder, "and I'm just as glad you'll be with him." She waited until Ron nodded, faintly embarrassed, before she went on, "now, you'll both need a good breakfast, and I've packed lunches for later – although," she fixed her gaze on Hermione, "I do hope you'll be taking the time to leave your office while eating it."

Ron sniggered at that.

"I'm having lunch at the shop," Hermione told Molly with a small smile.

"Very good!" Molly was back at the stove, piling two plates high with toast, eggs and bacon. "There you both are, eat up now." She plopped down at the end of the table and beamed at them; only to jump up again as Harry and Ginny filed into the kitchen, immediately followed by Percy and George.

Bill and Fleur arrived via floo soon after, just as Charlie took his seat at the table and Arthur arrived to help Molly pass the breakfast plates along the table.

Percy and Arthur were first to leave, both receiving kisses on the cheek and brown paper bags bulging with their lunches.

Bill and Fleur were next. The dwarves of Gringotts had been extremely suspicious of allowing wizards and witches back into work, but Bill was respected enough to not raise too many protests – particularly after Griphook had grudgingly felt the need to bring to light the fact that Bill and Fleur had helped him during the war.

Soon Ginny and George were tapping their feet impatiently, waiting for the others to get a move on.

"Are you going to be alright?" Ginny asked George quietly while the others continued to chat amiably.

"Probably not," George admitted, "but it's not going to get any easier the longer I leave it." He fiddled with the handle of his mug, frowning heavily at it. "I just want to get it over with."

"We'll come down for lunch," Ginny told him, "Percy wants to come too – we'll have a picnic right in the middle of the work-room with Mum's bagged lunches."

"Something to look forward too," said George, meeting her eyes, then he motioned to Ron and Charlie, "they're going to need more than a bagged lunch by the time I'm done with them."

They watched, both chuckling as Hermione said she need to change her shoes and Ron sprung up, stating that he'd help her.

"I'm sure she needs lots of help," George waggled his brows suggestively.

Harry and Charlie both guffawed loudly, but Ginny huffed impatiently. "I think it's sweet."

"That's right, Ginny dear," Molly agreed, "it shows good manners on Ron's part."

*

All too soon, Molly found herself completely alone in the silent house. She refilled the teapot with a flick of her wand and summoned a chocolate biscuit from her secret place in the pantry.

She decided everyone would need a good, nourishing dinner after their heavy day at work.

It was just like when all the children had been at school – although that felt like decades ago. Staring up at the pictures plastered all over the walls, her eyes lingered on Fred. "I wish you were here, my love. We're coping without you now, but things are never going to be the same."

The photo of Fred waved at her merrily.

*

George's wand trembled in his hand.

Diagon Alley was quiet, this early in the morning – traders were arriving in drips and drabs and only the occasional shopper could be seen abroad.

No one payed much mind to the three flame-haired men standing before Weasley's Wizard Wheezers.

George's eyes squeezed shut, and he stiffened noticeably when he felt a firm hand surrounding his, keeping it steady.

"Thanks Ron," he whispered, opening his eyes again to see both Ron and Charlie watching him sadly.

He muttered the spells under his breath; an orange shimmer pouring over and around the shop-front from door-step to roof, and then the front door sprung open.

Ron and Charlie waited, still watching their brother – trading glances behind his back as he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

"Come on then," he said, his voice quivering, "there's work to do."

*

The first thing Hermione Granger had done, upon entering Umbridge's office, was banish away all of the garish lacy and floral decorations.

It had given her great pleasure to watch two workers from magical maintenance box it all up and take it away ... and she personally saw to the disposal of the decorative kitten plates adorning the walls.

Without the fussy table-cloth the cherry wood desk was handsome, begging Hermione to spread her parchment out on it and begin to work.

She had approached the filing cabinets first, beginning at "A", and before she knew it several hours had simply flown past and Ginny was poking her head around the door.

"Lunch time!" Ginny said, looking around the large office in surprise. "I love what you've done to the place."

"Is it that time already?" Hermione placed her quill in the special holder on the desk, and then carefully put a place keeper in the file she had been taking notes on. "I feel like I've only been here 10 minutes."

Ginny eyed the tidy stack of files on the corner of the desk. "Well, it's break time now. Harry's just in talking to Kingsley, and then we can collect Percy and head over to the shop."

*

"You've certainly achieved a great deal this morning," said Percy, carefully making his way around several piles of boxes.

Charlie grunted in reply, prodding the blisters on the palm of one hand.

"Plenty more to do yet," George's eyes were sparking, "I think we'll be ready to open by Monday ... that's if my two lackey's keep up the good work."

Ron snorted rudely from his spot on the floor, in the corner, where he was leaning against Hermione's legs. "Whatever you say boss, just remember I'm only your lackey during business hours."

"Wouldn't dream of forgetting," said George, amid general laughter.

*

"You don't have to go up there, yet, you know," said Ron quietly. He'd just rounded a corner to find George staring at a bright orange door.

"Don't I?" George muttered. "I really should. It just some rooms. Nothing special."

Ron put his boxes down and closed the space between them.

"It doesn't matter. You just don't have to go up there yet. Give it a couple of days."

"You don't think I'm ... being a coward?"

"No. You've done enough today. Just leave it. We'll sort the shop out first, yeah? After that, maybe on Monday ..."

George allowed himself to be pulled away, slightly relieved. "We left in such a hurry," he said vaguely, "we didn't even bother to clean up. We thought we'd be back ..."

Ron clasped his shoulder, not able to think of anything to say.

"We just packed up the shop," George went on, "shoved everything near the windows into the cellar ... we didn't even make our beds."

*

Hermione couldn't sleep at all. The moonlight streaming into the small room was spectacularly bright, but the night was too warm to shut the curtains. Even without the light to keep her awake, she was far too wound up after her day in Umbridge's office, reading through the old hags hand written notes. Hermione had also found –

Light footsteps creeping past her door ... probably someone going to the loo – but no, whoever it was continued down the stairs. Someone wanting a cool drink on this warm night, no doubt.

_Not such a bad idea ... _but she decided against it.

Instead she slipped out of bed as quietly as possible, no need to wake Ginny after all, and tiptoed to the window. Perching on it carefully, she gazed at the scene below and absently rubbed Crookshanks' ears when he jumped up next to her.

A small group of gnomes were scarpering about on the lawn, digging for worms; and a cluster of bright fairies were flittering around Arthurs shed. She could hear one of them chattering angrily as it tried and failed, repeatedly, to fly through the closed shed window – banging its tiny head and landing with a splat on the glass.

The back door clicked softly, catching her attention, and she glanced down automatically to see a tall, broad shouldered figure cross the lawn.

_Ron._

He seemed to be heading for the pond, so she took a moment to admire the figure he cut in a slightly-too-tight vest and old pair of shorts, and then he disappeared behind the large Sycamore.

The fairies shrieked in alarm and disappeared quickly behind the shed.

_Silly things. He's not about to do anything to them, they should know that by now._

Now that the fairies were gone the garden was engulfed in a deep, deep silence.

"Country Quite" her mother had called it once. Hermione smiled at the memory. This was the first time, she realised, that she'd been able to think of her mother and smile. Oh, the tears were still there, lurking under the surface – they were never far away – but at least now she could smile as well.

Straining her ears, in that "Country Quiet", Hermione could hear the river bubbling away in the distance ... and something else.

A quiet, choked back sob ... drifting over from the spot where she knew Ron to be.

Without a second thought she left the bedroom and tiptoed through the house, expertly avoiding the creaky board on the second landing. She slipped through the kitchen and back door, hurrying silently across the lawn, past the tree and toward the pond.

And there he was.

Face wet, hair in disarray.

"Ron," she whispered, settling beside him in the long grass, resting a hand on his arm.

"Hi," he whispered back, wiping his face quickly; clearly embarrassed at being caught during a weak moment. "What are you doing out here?"

"Couldn't sleep," she told him, rubbing his arm, "saw you come out ... heard you."

"Ah."

"It's OK, you know," she said softly, "you don't need to be embarrassed."

"And yet I am," he muttered, wiping his face again with the back of his hand.

"Don't be," she said firmly, "it's only me."

"Only you?" He sounded faintly amused. "There is no 'only you' ... you're so much more than an 'only'."

Hermione shook her head and wrapped her arms around him, cradling him like a small child. "What happened today?"

"Nothing much," Ron muttered, clearly still struggling with himself.

"OK." She decided not to press the issue; he'd always been very self-contained about this sort of thing.

"Today was fine," Ron surprised her by saying. "I mean, it was fine while we were busy ... and George really kept us busy, especially before lunch ... but after lunch we finished bringing everything up from the store-room and started re-stacking the shelves ..." he shuddered suddenly and buried his face into her shoulder. "George went off for a bit – he did that on and off all day, so I didn't think much of it ... but I found him standing by the door to the upstairs. Just standing there, looking at it."

"To where they lived together, you mean?" Hermione asked softly.

"Yeah." Ron agreed, taking a deep breath. "He told me how they left in such a rush, to get to Muriel's place ... they boxed up the shop but left upstairs just the way it was ... didn't even make the beds or anything ..."

"OK."

"He didn't know ... how could he? Fred didn't know that it would be the last time he saw the place."

Hermione said nothing; just rubbed Ron's back and kissed the top of his head.

"We're going to have to go up there. We're going to have to clean up ..." he sobbed quietly into the crook of her neck, clinging tightly to her. "All his stuff is going to be up there. His clothes, the dishes from what they had for tea ... everything."

"Oh, Ron." Hermione hugged him tighter, stroking his hair. "He'll still be there after you've cleaned up."


	8. Friday On Our Minds

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Friday On Our Minds

Harry and Ginny have had a permanent lunch appointment every Friday, since the end of the war.

Not a lot happens in this one, and it's short. :-)

* * *

"Last day," Ginny smiled at Harry as she stepped from one of the Ministry fire-places. "Happy?"

"Definitely," Harry smiled back, taking her hand as they made their way through the crowded Atrium to wait by the gilt grilles of the lifts. "I'm not going to miss it."

"Ha!" Ginny snorted. "What a surprise."

Harry shot her an amused look; but said nothing as they stepped into a lift, both ducking instinctively when several interdepartmental memo's followed them in and shot around excitably over their heads.

They found themselves pushed to the back corner of the lift by several other witches and wizards entering their lift, and nodded general greetings.

"So what's on today's agenda?" asked Ginny.

"No idea," Harry shrugged, a small grin turning the corners of his mouth, "we'll see what Kingsley has to say."

"Don't forget its Friday," said Ginny.

"No danger!" Harry's eyes were suddenly alight. "No danger at all."

*

"So this is it, Harry!" Kingsley boomed by way of greeting and slid stack of parchment across his desk. "Just a quick turn around St Mungo's and I think we can officially say that your work here is done."

"Thank god for that!" Harry grinned. "Don't take it the wrong way, but I really could use a change of scenery."

"I understand completely!" Kingsley grinned too. "I understand that you'll both be at Hogwarts from now on," he sighed deeply then, "I was there yesterday, I'm afraid you'll have your work cut out for you."

"Is it really that bad?" Ginny asked.

"Don't misunderstand me, they have achieved a great deal," said Kingsley, "but the damage was ... well ..."

"I know." Harry nodded.

"There is one thing," Kingsley hesitated, "I suspect you won't be happy about it."

Harry raised his brows while Ginny merely looked interested.

Kingsley chuckled then. "Since the debacle that was Ron and Hermione's trial, it seems the Wizengamot is much more supportive of my staying on as Minister."

"But that's a good thing!" Harry cut in. "I couldn't think of anyone better for the job."

"Thank you, Harry, I appreciate the support." Kingsley looked faintly embarrassed. "There will be an event, I'm afraid. I'm well aware of your dislike of publicity, however this one cannot be avoided – and I would like to see you there."

"An event?" Ginny asked, slightly amused at the look of distaste on both men's faces. "Don't worry; I'll make sure he's there."

"Not just Harry," Kingsley smiled, "all of you. Now, I've got work to do! I'll send an owl with the details – you two enjoy your day, and I'll more than likely see you on Sunday – Percy tells me Molly is making meatballs.

*

"You're early today," a soft voice called from around the corner of the stone cottage. "Come straight through, we're gardening."

Harry followed Ginny down the cobbled path which lead along the hawthorn and honeysuckle hedgerow, through the small squeaking gate and into the back garden.

"How are you both?" Andromeda Tonks took a moment to peel off her gardening gloves before crossing the small lawn to give both Harry and Ginny a warm hug; and then lead them over to the clematis laden arbour, where an old fashioned wicker pram was positioned in a shady corner.

"You're looking well," Ginny said, as she and Andromeda took their favourite seats on the old oak bench, while Harry leaned over to look into the pram.

"Every week," Harry whispered, sounding surprised, "Teddy seems to be twice the size. How does that happen?"

"Babies do have a habit of growing," Andromeda smiled gently,"amazing, isn't it?"

"He's wonderful," Harry sighed and took his place between Ginny and the pram. "How are you?"

"Muddling along," Andromeda gave half a nod. "I thought we'd eat out here today, it's so lovely."

*

Harry had Teddy out on the lawn, blowing raspberries into his fat little belly ... and looking just as delighted as the little boy who gurgled up at him. "Watch this, Ginny!" Harry called, "see what he can do!" He held a vivid blue clematis bloom in front of Teddy's face and laughed in triumph when the tiny boy's hair quickly changed to match.

Ginny and Andromeda both applauded enthusiastically and laughed when Harry put Teddy's entire foot in his mouth and pretended to chew, earning a happy squeal from the tiny boy.

"I'm not sure which one is enjoying this more," Ginny giggled.

"I suspect they both are," Andromeda smiled, "more tea?"

"Please."

"How's Mum?" Andromeda wanted to know.

"She's well," Ginny sipped her replenished tea. "Lovely, thank you. She sends her regards." Ginny raised her brows. "She also told me to remind you that the invitation still stands."

"Ah." Andromeda chuckled lightly. "I suspected she might. I – tell Molly that I appreciate the thought, I really do, but I couldn't put her to that much trouble."

"Trouble?" Ginny sighed. "I assume she's referring to last fortnights dinner invitation? It wouldn't be any trouble, you know."

"You're very like her, when you use that tone," Andromeda laughed outright. "Perhaps when Teddy is a little older ..."

"Are you worried about taking him in the floo? You know Harry could probably get a car from the Ministry for the day. I don't think Kingsley would mind that much, I gather he's coming this Sunday too ... just – think about it. OK?"

"Well ..." Andromeda hesitated and then added very quietly, "it might be nice to get out of the house."

"Good!" Ginny nodded briefly. "So you'll come? Mum will be thrilled to see you."

Andromeda sighed heavily. "I remember her from Hogwarts, you know."

"Who? Mum?" Ginny looked curious.

"Yes. She was in fourth when I started there, but she was always nice – even though I was a Black. Your uncle Gideon was in my year, you know ... he was a good friend of Teds. When we ... Ted and I ... when we," Andromeda took a deep breath, "when we became friends, Bella wasn't happy with me - not at all ..."

"I can imagine." Ginny said dryly.

"Yes. Quite." Andromeda shook her head. "But that's all in the past now." She let her gaze settle back on Harry and Teddy. Harry was flat on his back, holding Teddy above him and making aeroplane noises. "Look at those two." She turned back to Ginny. "Yes. Tell Molly we'll come."


	9. Truth

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

*

Reviews! Oh my! Thanks SO MUCH, they're great. :-)

*

* * *

Truth.

(Luna)

* * *

She loved this place.

It was wild.

Free.

The Atlantic Ocean rolled and boiled while the wind whipped her hair in all directions.

Heavy charcoal clouds scudded over the rust coloured sky in abandon.

This was her thinking place.

She'd never told her father.

He accepted that she needed time to herself and would not take it upon himself to question her long disappearances.

Sometimes she wished he would.

It was becoming hard to just accept ... becoming hard to not question.

In truth, it had been this way for some time ... amazing how being trapped in the dark could illuminate you.

In opening her mind, she'd found it beginning to close.

Oddly, or possibly not, this did not make her sad – it wasn't something to be sad or happy about, was it?

It just was.

She wouldn't change much, if she was given the chance. Knowledge was life and challenge was growth – even if she didn't understand, yet, why the challenges were necessary.

Perhaps she would bring back those lost ... but would that intervene with the order of things?

She allowed herself to wonder what might have been.

That's why she was here, in her little cave – just her and the dirt and the black craggy rocks and the heather and the wind ... not another human for miles around ... fog rolling in over the ocean like a comforting blanket.

She was ashamed of him. Her father. Just a little.

Hadn't he understood? Hadn't he known? Some things were just more important than the individual.

It opened her eyes. Made her see him in a clearer light.

At this point, she wasn't sure she was grateful for it ... it was one of those challenges she had yet to understand.

He was still Daddy. Still the most important living person in her life – she could understand his motivation. Sympathise.

Love him all the more for it.

But.

Just but ... really.

Maybe ... maybe ... maybe.

She had trouble even contemplating the thought.

Weakness.

She had always prided herself in her strength – but this was weakness, another challenge to be met and overcome ... just finish the thought.

Maybe people like Hermione had been right all along.

Maybe not being able to prove something DOESN'T exist doesn't make it exist at all.

Such a foreign thought ... like a blasphemy.

It was time she found out for herself, stopped accepting the impossible and looked for proof ... strangely exciting, really.

She was sure there were many things still left undiscovered.

It was time for her to discover them.

Sighing in contentment, she crawled into her sleeping bag and settled down for the night.

Tomorrow she would go home.

* * *

_Another really short one. Back to Ron and Hermione ASAP, I promise! _


	10. Silly

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

*

At the risk of sounding like a broken record; Thank you to those who have left reviews. I really appreciate the feedback. :-)

* * *

Silly

(Really, really silly!)

* * *

It was always the same with them.

The heat.

Just his lips pressed on hers elicited such feelings – so soft, yet demanding ... pulling the very breath from her.

Fire curled in her belly ... and beyond.

Such a cliché, but there was no other way to describe it.

His fingers. So long and so, so clever ... sliding under her shirt, burning into the small of her back.

She sunk her own fingers into his hair, luxuriating in the silky feel of it sliding through her fingers.

He popped open the top button of her shirt, brushing his lips over her neck as he did so ... she moaned in anticipation.

"Hermione ..."

Merlin, she loved the way he said her name.

"Hermione ..."

He was stroking her hair, his voice soft and somehow distant.

"Hermione ..."

She opened her eyes to find herself in the front room, her head resting on Ron's lap.

_Oh. My. Goodness._

"It's OK," Ron whispered, "you were having a nightmare. It's not real, you're safe."

What to do first? Laugh at the absurdity of it? Blush furiously with mortification? Or feel genuinely touched at the expressions of concern and sympathy on Ron and George's faces.

She settled for a little of each; bringing her hands up to her burning cheeks and giving a shaky little laugh. "It's alright, I'm OK. Really." She sat up and smiled at them both. "Don't look so worried, please! I'm so sorry I fell asleep. What did I miss?"

"Nothing much," George assured her. "Just talking business, that's all." He stood up and grinned down at them both. "I'm off to bed. Don't stay up too late, right? Harry's called Quiddich tomorrow morning."

"Are you sure you're OK?" Ron asked gently after they'd bid George a good night.

"I'm perfectly fine," Hermione blushed again. "Really."

Ron frowned and took both of her hands in his. "Really, really? You didn't sound fine. You were moaning and twitching around as if you were under the cruciatus. Were you having a nightmare about Bellatrix?"

He looked so concerned; she couldn't let him worry like this ... but what to say?

"Honestly, I'm OK. I wasn't dreaming about Bellatrix ... or being cursed." She stood then, pulling him up with her. "George is right; we shouldn't stay up too late."

He followed her silently through the house, up the stairs and past various rooms, until they were standing before her door.

"If you weren't having a nightmare about Bellatrix," Ron wrapped his arms around her for their goodnight hug, "what was it then?"

She returned the hug and burrowed her nose into his collar bone, breathing him in. "I was dreaming about you, Ron."

"Me?" He instinctively tightened his arms around her and pressed a light kiss onto her temple. "You were having a nightmare about me?"

"I never said it was a nightmare." Standing on her tippy toes, she kissed him thoroughly. "Goodnight, Ron." She laughed at his confused expression and slipped through the door, taking one more moment to say, "I'll leave you to figure it out for yourself, see you in the morning," and shut the door firmly behind her.

*

_What the bloody hell was that about?_

Not that he was complaining, mind.

The kiss was good.

_Damn good._

He was just a bit ... confused.

Creeping upstairs and into his own room; he hurriedly changed into his night clothes and slid into bed, attempting to block out Harry's gentle snores.

_Trust Hermione to leave me a riddle just before it's time to sleep._

He rolled onto his stomach and turned his pillow onto the cooler side.

_So. Facts._

_Not a nightmare. That's good. _

_About me ... equally good ... possibly ... no, definitely – because it wasn't a nightmare, remember._

_But it sounded like a nightmare ...  
_

_She was moaning._

_Hermione was moaning while she was having a not-nightmare about me. _

_Then she kissed me goodnight and told me to figure it out for myself ... _

_Merlin, I'm tired. I'm sure this wouldn't be so difficult if I wasn't so bloody tired._

_Hmmm. That was one good kiss. Short, but to the point._

He rolled onto his side.

_Something's definitely a point. Hah. She has no idea what she does to me._

He peered into the darkness, trying to make out Harry's form in the old camping-bed.

_I wonder if I'd be able to get away with a quick – no, better not, he might wake up ... that would be embarrassing, for both of us._

_Think about the riddle, Weasley. If you don't, you're going to end up ..._

_Moaning in your sleep._

_Like Hermione was._

_While she was dreaming about me._

_OH._

A wide smile split his face and he nearly laughed out loud.

_Oh yes. I'll definitely see you in the morning, Hermione._


	11. Under the Wych Elm

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

*

Thanks to those who reviewed! :-) This chapter is a little longer, because I managed to wrestle the computer away from the competion. I hope you enjoy it (I rather liked writing it :-P).

* * *

Under the Wych Elm

Saturday at The Burrow. A bit of thinking, a bit of talking, a bit of reading ... a little bit of Quiddich and maybe some flying. Rated M. R/Hr with vague H/G.

* * *

_There she is, looking all prim and proper again; using her knife and fork to eat her eggs and toast, hair pulled back in a tidy ... what do they call those things? Braids? Yeah, I think that's it ... _

_She's saying something to Mum, but I can't tell what it is. All I see is her lips moving._

_SHE looks like she got a decent sleep last night._

_Not like SOME people ... hah ... so worth the lack of sleep though ... she's looking at me now, smiling and saying something ... I've no clue what it is; but I'll assume it's some sort of morning thing, and I'll nod and smile right back at her._

_You know what? Looking at her now, I'm not so sure she doesn't know what she does to me. I can see that little smirk she's trying to hide in her tea-cup. Oh, it's on now ... we've got all day, Hermione Granger, and I'm going to love every minute of it._

_What's that? Mum's talking to me now. Bloody hell. Can't a man stare at his girl-friend in peace? _

"Sorry, Mum, what was that?" Ron asked, pouring himself his own cup of tea.

"Are you alright dear?" Molly pressed her hand to his forehead. "You seem a little vague this morning."

"I'm fine, Mum," he shrugged her off gently, "I'm just a bit tired. I was up most of the night," he raised a brow at Hermione, who was sitting opposite him; "it was too hot for sleep."

"But it was quite cool last night," said Molly.

"Really?" Ron shrugged. "I was all sweaty when I was up, tossing and turning." It was with a certain amount of satisfaction that he watched Hermione's cheeks stain pink. "So, Harry. Quiddich today, yeah?"

"Definitely!" Harry agreed.

"Oh dear." Molly frowned as she sat down to eat her own breakfast. "I'm very sorry, but the garden needs de-gnoming before anything else – it's completely over run."

At any other time this would have annoyed Ron to all ends, but not today. "That's fine, Mum," he said. "We'll get it done in no time."

"Thank you, Ronald." Molly reached over and patted his arm. "Don't forget Crisps Sun Potion ... you remember what happened last time."

"Not likely to forget, am I?" Ron pretended to grumble. "Someone's going to have to put it on for me though," he started directly at Hermione again; "I can never get my back done properly."

*

"What are you playing at, Weasley?" Harry asked as they made their way into the garden. "You HATE de-gnoming."

"I know." Ron answered cheerfully. "It's the most rubbish job created."

"That's my point." Harry laughed.

"Hermione likes it." Ron shrugged.

"Hermione never does it," Harry pointed out, "and I would have thought she wouldn't approve. Aren't we impinging on their rights or something?"

Ron snorted rudely. "You'd think so ... but apparently not."

"So?" Harry prodded, as they gently parted the agapanthus.

"What?"

"I think your Mum's right, you know," Harry grouched, "you've lost it."

_Not yet, I haven't ... _"Now, now, Harry," Ron shot him a grin as he took on one of Percy's more pompous tones, "to state that I have lost it would infer that I had it in the first place ... now shut it and help me find some bloody gnomes, but we can't get rid of them too quickly."

"Do I even want to know?" Harry sighed in resignation.

"No, you don't." Ron stated, still grinning. "Get on with it, we've got company."

*

"Why are we out here again?" Ginny demanded as Hermione pulled her outside none-too-gently.

"We're peeling the potatoes for your Mum, for lunch." Hermione told her with a tone that brooked no argument.

"And we can't do this in the kitchen because why, exactly?" Ginny laughed.

"Because it's a lovely day and we should be out in the fresh air, vitamin D and all that," said Hermione.

"Vitamin D?" Ginny raised her brows. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's just good for you, alright," Hermione huffed, slightly impatient, "now start peeling."

"All right, all right." Ginny started peeling, privately thinking to herself that there was no way her mother was going to need this many potatoes – but clearly Hermione had some sort of bee in her damn bonnet, and it really wasn't worth arguing with her when she was in this kind of mood.

"You missed a spot," Hermione pointed out.

Ginny shot her a withering look and then rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say."

Hermione hummed contentedly, although her potato peeling seemed to be going rather slowly – she was being even more meticulous than usual, Ginny noticed.

_What's she up too? No one cares that much about potatoes, except Ron ... _

She glanced over at her brother automatically and had to stifle a laugh.

_So THAT'S why we're here. _

She stared at him critically, trying to figure out just what it was that Hermione liked so much.

_I mean, yes, he's a great guy ... when he's not being a git, and lately he really hasn't been a git at all ... so I can understand that ... but she seems to actually find him attractive. Now, if he looked like HARRY – that I could understand ..._

At that moment Harry himself stumbled into view, the muscles in his arms rippling as he flung a dirty brown gnome over the fence and into the adjoining field.

_Well now ..._

The sunlight glinted off his black ... _raven black ... _hair as he threw back his head and laughed at something Ron said.

"You'll catch flies," Hermione interrupted her thoughts.

"Huh?" Ginny said vaguely, not turning to look at her friend.

"Shut your mouth, you'll catch flies," said Hermione, laughing.

"Flies. Hmm. Whatever you say." _ Would you just look at that arse! Go on, Harry, bend over a bit further ... that's it ... well done ... _

The sound of a potato and peeler being dropped pulled her attention away from Harry for a moment. A very un-Hermione-ish squeak came from her friend and Hermione's cheek bones were tinted pink as she gazed avidly at Ron, who had just taken off his t-shirt and was walking back to the house.

"Hello Hermione, Ginny," said Ron cheerfully and waved as he went past them, only to reappear moments later holding a green bottle in his hands.

*

_Oh my ..._

Hermione hardly noticed the potato and peeler dropping from her suddenly nerveless fingers.

_What a sight._

Her eyes followed him as threw his t-shirt down on the grass and crossed the yard, completely bare chested. He waved at them cheerily, said something she didn't quite catch and disappeared into the house.

_I love de-gnoming. _

There he was again, holding a small green bottle and smiling down at her. "Could you?"

Hermione stared up at his great height and shut her mouth with a snap. _Get a grip on reality, Hermione, it's just sun potion. _"No problem," she said, forcing casualness and accepted his hand up. Taking the bottle from him, she opened it slowly and poured some of the potion onto the palm of her hand.

Ron turned around promptly and presented her with his back.

Ginny sniggered in the background, but Hermione chose to ignore her – instead spreading her hands over Ron's shoulders and rubbing the potion briskly into his pale skin, resolutely ignoring the fluttering of her pulse.

_One day I'm going to take the time to count every single freckle on your shoulders._

Her hands slid further down and around to skin his sides lightly, and she detected a slight hitch in his breath.

_Ticklish, are we? I'll have to remember that for future reference._

Down to his narrow hips ... just a little lower and she could squeeze his bum ... but it wouldn't do to give into the temptation, not with Ginny sitting on the grass at their feet.

No, definitely not, Harry was watching them with interest – and she was quite sure she detected a tell-tale flash of red through the kitchen window.

Instead she moved up to the back of his ears, using a teasing touch on what she knew was one of his most sensitive parts.

It had surprised her, the first time she had discovered that little tidbit of information. They had stolen away, weeks ago, both of them desperate for just a moment of escape from the then quiet and sad house.

He'd been kissing her neck – he really did seem to like her neck – and she'd been desperate to do something ... anything ... so she had pulled away slightly and ran her tongue along the rim of his ear.

Well.

His reaction ... sweet Circe he had actually growled! Enflamed, she'd then skimmed her teeth over his lobe and –

_Sun potion, Hermione!_

"I think that's it," she said out loud, taking a calming breath and handing him the bottle when he turned to face her.

"Thanks, Hermione."

Merlin she LOVED it when he said her name.

*

"Thanks, Hermione," said Ron. "So Mum's put you two to work too?"

Ginny watched Hermione nod dumbly as Ron started spreading the potion over his chest.

"Sausages and mash for lunch," she supplied, desperately trying to stifle a laugh at the way Hermione's eyes followed the path Ron's hands made down to his stomach and hips. Finally she could stand it no longer and burst out with; "Bloody hell, Ron. Give it a rest! At the rate you're going, she's going to pass out."

Ron smirked – he actually smirked! – at his sister and said, "Don't be silly, I'm just putting on some Crisps'."

"Honestly Ginny," Hermione laughed at the same time that Ron was speaking, "what ever are you talking about?"

"See." Ron nodded and dropped the bottle on the grass by Hermione's abandoned bowl of potatoes. Then he shot Hermione the most blatantly ... good grief, Ginny didn't even want to think about the kind of look her brother was giving her best friend.

*

"That was interesting," Harry sniggered as he and Ron flung a handful each of gnomes over the fence.

"What?" Ron asked innocently.

Harry snorted at that. "Sometimes I wish I was ginger too."

"Whatever for?" Another three gnomes over the fence.

"Well, I don't need sun potion, do I? Clearly I'm missing out on something," said Harry.

"Yeah. Sunburn." Ron laughed.

"Ha ha."

"You," Ron pointed at Harry, "are just arsey because I thought of it first."

"Point."

Ron sighed in mock aggravation. "I can't believe I'm telling you this, but she likes it when you bend over."

"Who?" Harry shot around to stare at Ron. "Ginny?"

"No," Ron rolled his eyes, "Mum ... of course Ginny, you prat."

"OK then. Thanks for the tip."

*

"Shouldn't we be helping?" Bill asked from his vantage point at the kitchen table.

Charlie shrugged and looked at George. "You wanna help them?"

"Hell no." George waved his hand dismissively. "I've done enough de-gnoming to last a life time. It's Mum's favourite punishment, you know." He craned his neck and looked out of the window. "They've got it all under control."

"But we should still help," Bill persisted, looking slightly guilty.

"And interfere with the mating ritual of the teenage boy?" Percy snorted as he came to the table with a fresh pot of tea. "Not advisable."

"Mating ritual?" Charlie and Bill's faces held identical expressions of disbelief, which George just sniggered in amusement.

"I did not mean literally," Percy sniffed.

"I should hope not!" Charlie frowned. "That's our little sister out there."

"Remember what we talked about, Charlie," Percy warned.

"Anyway, it's not Ginny that Ron's cracking onto," George pointed out. "I have to say his technique has improved over the years."

Percy nodded sagely. "The aggravate and argue method he used to employ never met with a great deal of success."

"Aggravate and argue?" Bill echoed.

"Ron used to wind her up on purpose," George explained, "just to get her attention."

"Hah!" Charlie laughed derisively. "Smooth."

"To be fair," Percy told them, "Hermione never failed to take the bait; I do rather think she enjoyed it in a perverse sort of way."

"True, true." George agreed. "Remember that barney they had about bloody Scabbers?"

"Oh yes!" Percy leaned back in his chair and smiled, a faraway look in his eyes. "Penelope told me they could be heard all the way from the Ravenclaw common room."

"You're kidding?" George was stunned. "I didn't know that."

"Oh, I am quite serious, yes. I suspect there were open windows involved, and more than likely the wind blowing in the correct direction – but even so."

"Well they're certainly not fighting now," said Bill.

*

"How about that Quiddich match?" Bill suggested as everyone lined up at the sink to clean and put away their lunch dishes.

"Are we free, Mother, or are there things that need doing around the house?" Percy asked politely.

"No, no. I'll take care of the house," Molly assured him, "you children go on and have fun."

"You shouldn't let them off so lightly," Arthur told his wife with a small smile as he stepped forward to take the stack of clean plates from her hands and put them away.

"Oh, they're alright," said Molly mildly, "let them enjoy the day. This way we get the house to ourselves for a few hours."

Arthur's eyes lit up. "When you put it like that ..."

*

George glanced down at the battered, old Quiddich box and flinched slightly. "I'm chasing."

"I'll keep," said Ron immediately. "Charlie?"

"I'm keeping too," Charlie grinned at his youngest brother.

"I suppose the rest of us will have to chase too. We don't have enough people for much else," Harry nodded toward Hermione, Percy and Fleur, "they don't look like they're playing."

*

Hermione, Percy and Fleur arranged themselves under the shade of a large ash tree, chatting aimlessly and watching the other swoop about on their brooms.

"Hermione," said Percy, "how are you progressing with Umbridge's files?"

"Very well," she told him, "I must say I'm shocked at just how corrupt the woman was. You know I can't tell you much, of course, but on Friday I had to have Bill come in for help."

"Is that so?" Percy blinked in surprise.

"Oh yes!" Hermione warmed to the subject. "Without giving too much away; Umbridge's files all had extra files attached to them, hidden and cursed. I was suspicious from the start," she admitted in a low voice, "because there were just far too simple to navigate. After we had lunch," Hermione smiled at Fleur, "things went much faster."

"That's excellent news," said Percy.

"There's a report I should be catching up on," Percy stretched and yawned approximately 30 minutes later.

The conversation had lulled and the three were drowsing comfortably in the dappled shade.

"Unfortunately," Percy went on, "I'm far too comfortable to go inside and do it."

"Who would have thought," Hermione chuckled slowly, "Percy Weasley, procrastinating?"

"Don't tell anyone," Percy grinned over at her, "I have a reputation to maintain."

"I won't breathe a word," Hermione promised. "Bring it out here."

"Hm. Yes." He made to stand, groaning lightly at the effort it took, after sitting in the one position for an extended period. "Can I get you both anything while I am in the house?"

"Summon it," said Fleur, not bothering to open her eyes, "Molly and Arthur may be enjoying ze time alone."

"Oh." Taking out his wand, Percy sat back down with a thud.

*

"When will zey stop, do you think?" Fleur was pouting slightly.

Both Percy and Hermione eyed the Quiddich players critically.

"Not for ages," Hermione predicted, not especially concerned. When Percy had summoned his report from the house she had summoned one the second hand novels she'd purchased from the village the previous weekend.

"Ron and Ginny both want to win," Percy pointed out, returning to his work. "They will continue until one of them has beaten the other, or until mother calls us in for dinner, if we allow them to do so."

"Oh," Fleur shrugged, "so we are here for quite some time."

"Would you like a book, Fleur?" Hermione asked, "I have several in the house."

Fleur looked mildly interested. "I notice you read Papillion, how do you find it?"

"I'm rather enjoying it," Hermione nodded, "it isn't the easiest book, I'll admit, but it's certainly interesting."

"That is so," Fleur agreed, "I had some trouble with it myself, but could not put it down."

"Have you read Banco?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Non. I have been unable to find it, unfortunately." Fleur looked extremely put out.

"I have it upstairs," Hermione laughed, "would you like to borrow it?"

"Oh yes!" Fleur beamed.

*

A shadow fell over the pages of her book.

"Want to come for a fly?" Ron's voice was soft and warm.

Hermione blinked up at him in surprise. "You've finished already?"

"Already?" Ron chuckled. "It's almost five ... so?" He twitched the broom in his hand, "want to come for a fly, Bookworm?"

"Bookworm?" Hermione wrinkled her nose at him. "That's rich, coming from the Quiddich freak." She closed her book carefully and set it on the grass beside her.

"To each their own," he held his hand out and pulled her up with a smile.

She glanced behind him to see the others coming toward them. "Who won?"

"George snuck one in for us," Ron laughed, "luckily, or we would have been at it until tomorrow morning. Ginny and Harry don't mess around."

"Thank Merlin for George then," said Hermione. "Where are we going?"

"I thought we might swing by the river," Ron said casually.

_Hmmm. The River. Yes. I do rather like the river. _"That's a nice idea," she said lightly, although the meeting of their eyes was anything but light.

*

"You know what you are?" Hermione leaned forward onto Ron's back to whisper in his ear.

"What am I?" Ron wanted to know, guiding the broom low over the trees.

"You are a tease, is what you are!" She deliberately brushed the rim of his ear with her lips.

"Is that so?" He sounded like he was smirking.

"As you well know."

"Like you can talk." Ron chuckled, bringing them gently to earth in the clearing Hermione had wanted to rest in the week before.

Throwing aside the broom, he advanced on her, leering comically, "I'm a tease, am I?"

"Oh yes," Hermione breathed, backing against a tree. "Taking your top off like that ... making me rub Crisps all over your back ..." she subconsciously licked her lips, "rubbing it all over your chest – right in front of me." She tried to sound scandalised, but failed miserably. "With Ginny there, no less!"

Ron snorted. "Serves you right, mucking up my sleep like that, and then appearing at breakfast all neat and tidy and ... prim." He was standing close. So close.

_Not close enough._

"Whatever are you talking about?" Her eyes were wide and she found herself a little breathless.

"Oh, I wonder." He ran his fingers down her arm, caught her hand in his. "Tell me, Hermione ..." he pulled her hand up and kissed her palm, "tell me about the dream you had, hmm? The one about me, which made you twitch and moan in your sleep."

"That?" She felt a sudden thrill of ... was it power? "Maybe I shouldn't have said anything? How did it ...?"

"How did it muck up my sleep?" Ron supplied.

She nodded.

"Are you sure you want to know?" He challenged, his eyes glinting.

Did she? She knew exactly what he was referring too ... but did she want it said out loud? She felt as though putting it "out there" as such ... well ... as intense as things had always got between them, they'd always skirted around that particular issue.

She loved, absolutely loved, snogging him. Having him standing so close to her was sending her mad. She wanted to grab hold of him and –

"I want to know," she stated bluntly, standing on her toes and ghosting her lips over his.

"Are you sure?" He persisted, "I can keep it to myself a bit longer."

"I want to know," she repeated.

He took her hand, the one he was already holding, and held it against the zip of his jeans. "I had a raging hard-on last night," he whispered in her ear and then dropped a kiss on her jaw. "Just like this. Made it very difficult to sleep."

"I see," and she did indeed see – or feel, rather. Again that flash of power, as well as a building of delicious tension within her. Settling her free hand on his hip, she pulled him a little closer. "And what did you do it with?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," he chuckled before slanting his mouth over hers. Demanding. Always so demanding ... and just that little bit dominant, which thrilled and challenged her competitive nature.

Then he surprised her by dropping to his knees in front of her.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, her mouth suddenly dry.

"Not too much, I promise," he gazed up at her, "tell me when to stop."

"I ... um ... OK."

His hands were on her hips, pressing her against the smooth bark of the Wych Elm. He pushed up her t-shirt, inch by drawn out inch, his thumbs stroking her waist. He leaned forward. Pressed his lips on the soft skin just below her navel.

"OK?"

She sunk her fingers into his hair. "Again."

So he did.

It was shocking, really, how such a simple thing could have such an effect on her.

"One day," he murmured, his breath hot against her flesh, "maybe soon, maybe not, but one day ... I'm going to have you ..." Merlin, his hands were splayed along her sides, his thumbs stroking the underside of her breasts.

"Will you?" Her voice was barely audible as her head fell back and her lips parted.

"If you let me." His teeth grazed gently over her waist.

She moaned.

"That's it." She could feel his smile as he dragged his lips down to her hip, "I love that sound ... that's what I was thinking about last night, when I couldn't stand it any longer."

"What did ... how ..."

"I had to sneak into the bathroom," he told her, running his hands down to cup her bum and squeeze it gently; he dipped his tongue into her navel , clearly pleased when it made her shudder, "lock the door, silence myself."

She wanted him to touch her.

"Ron ..." she pushed his shoulders gently, staring down at him ... slightly mesmerized by the curve of his mouth.

"Time to stop?"

"No ... just ... come back up here," she waited until he was upright again before taking his hand and, mimicking his earlier action, placed it over the zip of her jeans. "It's not as obvious as yours," she flushed, slightly embarrassed at feeling so wanton, "but it's there."

He rubbed gently. "Like that?"

"Just like that," she agreed, reaching out and doing the same to him; delighted when a low groan tore from his throat and his eyes squeezed shut. "Harder?"

"Yes. Tell me what to do. Tell me how to make you happy."

In truth, just having his hand on her was making her short of breath ... but somehow she knew it could get so much better. She wanted to feel every bit of him against her, she wanted to kiss him ... she wasn't particularly short herself, but he was overly tall ... what to do?

Not taking her hand from him – and why would she want too? Every time she squeezed and rubbed he jerked slightly toward her – she muttered; "Clothes stay on."

"Whatever you say," he nodded, watching her with a mixture of curiosity and heat.

Stepping out from between Ron and the tree, she led him to the middle of the clearing and sunk down to the ground, taking him with her.

"Kiss me, Ron."

He covered her completely. Kissed her senseless, sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, slid his tongue along hers. She moaned again, his weight pressing against her, and his erection pressing in just the right spot ... but she needed more, bent her knees, grabbed his bum and pulled him harder against her ... pushed her hips up ...

Was the world spinning, or was it just in her head? Did it matter? She just wanted more of it, and judging from his suddenly ragged breath against her throat, so did he ... she was dimly aware of his hand on one of her breasts, burning through the fabric of her clothing as he rolled his thumb over the nipple – somehow making the throbbing between her legs all the more concentrated ... or was it his teeth nipping at the sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder met?

All she knew, at that moment, was that she had to find something ... rubbing up against him, tilting her hips even more ... his movements becoming more erratic, and he held her tighter, abandoning her neck to kiss her hard, mumble something incoherent into the corner of her mouth – his voice persuasive and pleading at the same time; transporting her into a shuddering, panting place ... and he was grabbing her shoulders and thrusting against her, swallowing her moans and cries with his mouth.

Silence.

She floated back to earth, stroked his hair, kissed him gently.

Sitting slowly, they studied each other, both grinning broadly.

* * *

*

_Random thought! I've seen it a lot where Hermione can't fly at all or else really, REALLY hates it ... BUT in the books she's not particularly comfortable with it_, _but she CAN do it. Just thought I'd mention that for future reference. :-)_


	12. Lunch At The Burrow

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Gah. Feels like ages since I've updated ... sorry to anyone if you've been waiting, school holidays and all that. The reviews are awesome, BTW. I AM going somewhere with this, although this particular chapter is ... I don't know what it is, actually - it just came out, you know? I'll call it "background" and we'll leave it at that, aye? :-)

* * *

Sunday Lunch At The Burrow

* * *

"Oh my goodness!" Molly Weasley hurried out of the house when she spied a long black ministry car pull up in front of the tiny front gate.

"I'm so glad you could both come!" She called and waved enthusiastically as Kingsley Shacklebolt helped Andromeda Tonks out of the car.

Molly pulled Andromeda into a bone crushing hug, and then held her at arm's length. "You're looking well, dear. Yes, very well indeed."

Molly turned to Kingsley, who had crawled into the car to retrieve Teddy, while the driver of the car collected the old fashioned pram from the boot. She waited until Kingsley had handed the baby over to Andromeda and then hugged him as well. "Good to see you, not working too hard I hope! Does your driver have anywhere to go?" She turned to the driver himself. "Would you like a cup of tea? Or to stay for lunch?"

The ministry driver was surprised. "Why - ah - no thank you, Mrs Weasley. I have family in Exeter, who are expecting me to apparate in. Thank you very much though." He turned to Kingsley. "Will that be all, Minister Shacklebolt?"

"That will be all, Alexander; you can have the rest of the day off. I'll get Mrs Tonks and myself back in one piece." Kingsley told him.

"Thank you, Minister, enjoy the rest of your day." With a swish of robes, he was gone.

"Now look at you!" Molly's voice dropped to a near whisper as she watched Andromeda place Teddy gently in the pram and tuck him in snugly. "You must be so proud, Andromeda ... he really is quite the most beautiful little boy."

*

Andromeda smiled to herself. Molly had always been completely mad, even when she was young, but only in the best way possible. Now that she was here, Andromeda wondered why on earth she had left if for so long.

Molly had been at her to visit for weeks now. Telling her that she shouldn't spend so much time alone, that she had friends who cared about her.

"Night or day!" Molly had waved her finger at Andromeda through the floo fire connection. "You're always welcome at The Burrow! You just come right over whenever you're ready, you understand me?"

"Molly!" Andromeda had laughed in protest that day, "I can't just pop in unannounced! It would be far too rude!"

"Oh, PISH!" Molly had laughed too, and then sobered at once. "I don't want to see you shut yourself away in that house and moulder away on your own."

"I'm not on my own," Andromeda had pointed out in what she had thought was a reasonable manner. "I've got Teddy – and Harry and Ginny visit every Friday."

Molly had tilted her head to one side, frowning in a curious manner. "Well, Andromeda, you know the invitation is always open to you ... and, if I may be so bold as to say so, maybe you should think a little bit about Augusta Longbottom. Meanwhile, I've got to get on!" Molly smiled again. "We'll talk again soon, yes?"

"Yes, we'll talk again soon," Andromeda agreed, "I look forward to it."

*

"Yes, he really is beautiful," Andromeda agreed, allowing Kingsley to take over the job of pushing the pram as they both followed Molly into the house.

They were assailed by enthusiastic cries of greeting from all around and for quite a few minutes Andromeda had a certain amount of trouble following any one conversation.

Teddy woke up in the furore, naturally, but seemed to be loving every moment of it - although it was with some trepidation that Andromeda watched him being passed from enthusiastic red-head to enthusiastic red-head - he was squealing and gurgling with abandon by the time he reached Harry, who immediately took him off to the settee and enthusiastically bounced him on his knee.

"Come into the kitchen," Molly was at her side again, taking her by the arm, "we're having a cup of tea."

"Oh, I don't think –"Andromeda started to protest, but Molly cut her off.

"He's in good hands, dear, you don't have to worry. Arthur has had a little bit of experience with babies and children, remember."

Andromeda had to admit Molly made a good point; so with a half-glance at her Teddy, she followed Molly into the kitchen.

Yet more people, and Andromeda was surprised to realise that it had only been the Weasley men in the front room – along with Harry and Kingsley, of course.

"Andromeda Tonks!" It was Minerva McGonagall, rising from her place at the table to stride across the room and shake her hand warmly. "I'm so happy to see you! Come, sit!" So Andromeda found herself unceremoniously propelled between a young, elegant blonde woman and an even younger woman with long, chestnut curls.

Andromeda knew them to be Fleur Weasley, Bill's wife, and Hermione Granger ... well, everyone knew Hermione Granger by now, if only by sight ... but she had never been formally introduced and suddenly, quite uncharacteristically, she found herself feeling rather shy.

_For goodness sake, Andromeda! _She chided herself. _You are a 45 year old grandmother, not some silly 11 year old girl._

The chattering group at the table, however, refused to let her feel uncomfortable and she soon found herself drawn into their conversation.

"You were telling us about Neville, Minerva," Molly said as she sat bought a fresh plate of scones to the table and waved her wand in the general direction of the tea pot, making it refill the cups on the table.

"Oh, indeed yes!" Minerva smiled briefly. "He really has been quite a great help – particularly to Pomona, as you would expect. He's coming back to re-do his NEWT year," Minerva fixed her gazed pointedly on Hermione, but merely continued on with what she was originally telling the group. "I have high hopes for that young man – He'll be Head Boy, naturally."

"That will make Augusta happy," said Molly.

Andromeda was curious to note some sort of private communication pass between Molly and Minerva, whose lips were pressed together in a thin white line.

"Yes, quite." Her tone was slightly frosty. "She's extremely proud of Neville, now."

"Well that's nice to know." Molly looked unimpressed.

Andromeda watched as Hermione and Ginny traded a confused look – and while it was clear they both wanted to ask for clarification, neither of them seemed willing to do so.

Fleur, however, showed no such hesitation. "I sense an undercurrent," she stated, "would you care to enlighten us?"

"Neville has always been a bright young lad," said Molly in a mild tone, "but he's had a lot to live up too."

"Frank and Alice," said Hermione automatically.

"You know about them?" Minerva was surprised.

"We met them once, after a fashion," Hermione admitted, while Ginny nodded her agreement, "in St Mungo's. It was quite sad."

"Yes," Minerva frowned. "They were a lovely couple. Highly talented, well liked and respected," she explained to Fleur, "unfortunately they were driven to madness by the cruciatus, and they haven't been in their right minds since. Neville was 16 months old when it happened and he's lived with Augusta ever since."

Andromeda felt a slight prickle of resentment. Molly had told her, just a few days ago, to remember Augusta. She hadn't caught the inference then – but now it was becoming clear. Still, she held her tongue – curious to see which direction the conversation would take.

"Augusta is a very strong woman, her heart is in the right place but she can be a little hard at times," Molly said at last, "I think ..." she frowned slightly, clearly weighing her words carefully.

"She should have been proud of Neville all along," Minerva supplied, "a little more encouragement and a little less protection."

"Yes, she did rather coddle Neville when he was small," Molly agreed.

"And then was surprised and dismayed when he wasn't the same sort of child as his father," Minerva added dryly.

"She never gave him the chance to be," Molly snorted, rather rudely. "The poor child couldn't walk until he was 3 years old, because she carried him everywhere."

Yes, the conversation was going in the exact direction Andromeda thought it would, and she felt somewhat insulted. As if she was anything like Augusta Longbottom! The very thought of it.

She remembered Neville as a young child well enough – Minerva and Molly were absolutely correct; never allowed to mess up outside in the dirt, too "delicate" to play with children his own age. Why she'd hardly let him outside at all until he was 9 years old.

_And when was the last time YOU left the house, Andromeda? Would you have today, if they hadn't just about bullied you into it? _

It wasn't a comfortable thought.

*

Kingsley Julius Shacklebolt hadn't had this much fun for quite some time. The laughter and conversation around the table was heartening. The clink of the tin-glazed earthenware and mutters of "please pass the potatoes" reminded him of his own mothers table, when he was a small boy – before his father had picked up the entire family and moved them from Montserrat to Birmingham ... what a shock it had been ... going from lush open spaces, craggy rocks and lazy afternoon games of cricket; to the hustle and bustle of a busy, cramped city.

It wasn't so different here, though, in Devon. Even if it looked different. The grass was just a green, though, and there was a similar feel.

No cricket though. Lord, he missed cricket. That particular thock of the leather against willow. There was nothing quite like it. If there was anything he regretted about his total immersion into the Wizarding world, it was that ... his muggle grandfather sitting beside his old wireless, totally engrossed in sixes and over's and muttering under his breath while his grandmother shook her head and smiled in resignation.

Kingsley glanced over at Arthur. He reminded him of his grandfather, in a strange way. Not in looks, that was certain, but in his quite strength. He wondered if maybe Arthur would be interested in cricket – certainly his love of muggle culture was unmatched. Perhaps, one day, they could watch a test together. There was no arguing the fact that the Weasley family were sport mad ... right now, in fact, the younger set were enthusing about the scratch match of Quiddich which they had indulged in the previous day.

Oh yes, they were a competitive lot – even Arthur, at Hogwarts, had had his stint as Gryffindor keeper. A damn good one he was too, once he got over his nerves.

Kingsley was startled out of his reverie by Molly piling more meatballs on his plate – damn good meatballs they were too ... she went heavy on the bacon, just like his Mum had been inclined to do – although his mother had never, in his memory, made meatballs. Molly was tutting over something Charlie was saying, something about Quiddich.

Kingsley supposed he had better start paying attention to the conversation flowing around him – it seemed his name was being mentioned and a question asked of him.

"Sorry, what was that?" Kingsley smiled sheepishly, "I was miles away."

Charlie grinned at him, ignoring his mother's protests. "I was saying that it was so much fun yesterday, we should do it all again. You should join us! I seem to recall seeing your name in the trophy room, at Hogwarts. 1969, wasn't it? If I remember correctly, you were a beater for Ravenclaw."

Kingsley grinned too. "Beater and Captain, I'll have you know!"

"Indeed he was," Minerva McGonagall put in, "a rare thing indeed."

"I didn't know that," Bill looked intrigued, and then glanced at his father. "Did you ever ... ?"

"That we did," Arthur nodded. "Although you'll note that they didn't win the cup until the year after I left."

"We very nearly didn't," Kingsley recalled fondly.

"10 points margin." Minerva confirmed. "Oh, I was ever so cross – we could have taken the cup that year, if our beaters hadn't been in the hospital wing for our last match against Slytherin."

Kingsley, Arthur, Andromeda and Molly all laughed. "They were wretches, weren't they?" Molly gasped, and then turned to the younger set to explain. "Gid and Fabe were the beaters, but they'd got into mischief as usual ... I can't remember what it was they'd been up too. I remember mother was furious with them, when you wrote to her about it," she nodded at Minerva.

"What did they do?" Ginny asked.

"I'm not entirely sure," Minerva admitted, "but I do remember that involved a dog tails, goat horns and pig ears."

"So are you up for it?" Bill wanted to know.

Kingsley glanced around the table. _Why not? _"You know what? I am. I think we've enough people here to have a proper go at it."

"How about we make this interesting," George piped up, "oldies against youngies?"

"That's completely unfair!" Harry protested. "They haven't got a seeker."

"Oh, you think so?" Minerva said with mock asperity, her eyes flashing. "I'll have you know, Potter, that I was considered quite a competent seeker in my time." She smiled at Andromeda. "We also have one of Slytherin's best chasers at the table, what do you think, Andromeda? Shall we show these young people how things are done?"

"Oh good heavens, Minerva!" Andromeda laughed outright at this. "It's been years since I've done anything other than pop down to the shops on a broom, I don't think I could do it."

"It's not something you forget, believe me," said Arthur in an encouraging tone of voice. "What do you think, Ron? Care to take your old Dad on? Keeper to keeper?"

Ron's eyebrows disappeared into his hair. "Uh, yeah. Sure?" He turned, wide-eyed, to Harry and Ginny, "are you in?"

"Definitely," they chorused together.

"Hermione?" Ron asked.

"I'll sit this one out, if you don't mind," Hermione chuckled.

"As will I," Fleur added quickly, looking slightly alarmed at the level of competitive fervour which had suddenly sprung up around the table.


	13. In The Orchard

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

SWEET CIRCE THE SUMMER HOLIDAYS ARE OVER!

This one is short, but more will be coming soon AND we'll be getting back on the R/Hr track before long. I still appreciate the reviews! :-D

* * *

In The Orchard

(Percy)

* * *

Percy Weasley was the first person to admit that he could be a little over zealous when it came to rules ... it was one of things which defined him as a person, and he was perfectly content with that fact ... although he'd relaxed considerably in the last twelve months or so – who wouldn't, when everything was taken into account?

That didn't mean, however, that he didn't experience a reflex moment of deep anxiety when the old Quiddich box was dug out of his father's shed. That deep anxiety was intensified when it became clear that Kingsley intended to take his position as a beater, which meant that the Bludgers would be released.

The family rule had always been that the Quiddich box remained under lock and key unless one of their parents, or Bill, was present – it just wouldn't do for a Snitch or Bludger to go astray, and the younger Weasley's just could not be depended upon to only release the Quaffle.

Privately, Percy had always thought that even the presence of a parent wasn't enough to guarantee complete safety – and he could only imagine the chaos which would ensue if it was found that the Minister himself had been involved in a match which broke the statute...

Thankfully his fears had been quickly pushed aside by the presence of Professor McGonagall.

She was currently flying low around the perimeter of the orchard, having just conjured her own broom into her hand, muttering under her breath and pointing her wand at the four corners – then directly up.

Percy watched as she nodded to herself, apparently satisfied, and was surprised when she landed directly in front of him. "No need to worry, Percy," she said, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards, "I have it all under control."

Percy allowed himself the tiniest of grins.

Meanwhile Kingsley was examining Andromeda's newly appeared broom, weighing it carefully in his hand. "A nice broom this one," he smiled gently, tugging at the purple ribbons attached to the handle, "I remember it well."

Andromeda just smiled, a little sadly, and nodded.

Percy couldn't help looking away, and seeing his mother approaching he rushed over and took Teddy from her arms while she arranged a thick travelling blanket under an apple tree.

Within minutes the teams had been sorted out – although Bill had protested at being placed with the "oldies", and had even gone so far as to punch Charlie in the arm when Charlie had told him that that was where "old married farts should go".

They were off!

Percy was relieved to note that with only one beater per side only one Bludger had been released.

He'd always enjoyed Quiddich – not to the point of obsession, like some in his family – and this was shaping up to be a very enjoyable game to watch. He was amused to note that his father and Ronald both hovered over their respective "goals" – in reality two conveniently placed trees at either end of the "pitch" – with similar expressions of nervous anticipation.

Teddy, who was currently leaning against Percy's chest, seemed to be watching avidly – more than likely he recognised his Grandmother's spontaneous laughter as she managed to steal the Quaffle from George and streak off toward goal.

_Two months old, Teddy my boy, and it looks like you've already been bitten by the Quiddich bug._

Percy wasn't at all surprised to hear Hermione's little crow of triumph when Ron saved the Quaffle and threw it back into play.

Harry and Professor McGonagall were both hovering up high, watching proceedings with intereste – when Professor McGonagall wasn't eyeing Harry beadily, that is, and Harry wasn't studying her wearily.

They were fairly evenly matched, Percy decided. Harry, of course, had youth on his side and the consequential quicker reflexes ... but Professor McGonagall had the advantage of experience, and, Percy suspected, quite a healthy serve of cunning.

Percy smiled to himself. He liked Harry a great deal, but he admired Professor McGonagall deeply ... had done so since he first started at Hogwarts.

Percy had been struggling to find his place. More than anything, he wanted to be recognised as his own person – not just another Weasley. But it had been difficult to step out of his older brothers' shadows – Bill, so intelligent and good looking and Charlie with all of his charisma and that easy smile.

Oh, Percy had always known he'd had the brains, even when he was a small child he had been confident with his intellectual abilities – but he just didn't have the personality.

At home it hadn't mattered so much. Mother and Father weren't won over by charm alone, and Percy knew without a doubt that they loved all of their children without reservation ... but that didn't stop him feeling the gnawing envy whenever visitors to The Burrow fussed over how Bill was growing into such a handsome young or couldn't stop smiling whenever Charlie told them some childish story or other.

Father had known though. Father always knew. "You're like my mother," he had said, the eve of Percy's first year at Hogwarts. "Clever as they come. I have absolute faith that you will achieve whatever you set your mind too. I know you'll make yourself proud."

It hadn't been easy though, and he had struggled. It had been Professor McGonagall who had pulled him aside one day, half way through first year, sat him down and asked him how he was.

It had all come tumbling out. The envy. The fear that he'd NEVER be seen as his own person. That he just wasn't good enough, no matter how hard he tried to fit in – he'd always be a pale reflection of his charming older brothers.

Professor McGonagall had smiled slightly and offered him a ginger newt; then told him a story about a dour little Scottish girl who had despaired of ever measuring up to her vivacious older sister, but she had plodded on anyway, and in time had found that true friends really didn't care what you looked like on the outside – or how prettily your danced or how sweetly you sang – and that even though it seemed like such a long time now, childhood was only for a few short years.

Then she had told young Percy a secret – although Percy knew, now, that it wasn't really a secret at all – that she was like him. She was like her grandmother, just as he was. And that her grandmother was Black too! And that both of them – Cedrella and Phoebe – had been very brave and intelligent people, who had faced their families displeasure to do what they knew was right for themselves. It was over Percy's second ginger newt that she told him to be proud of whom he was and that she was confident that he would find his place.

Percy blinked and looked around him. He'd found his place, eventually – although it had certainly been touch and go for a couple of years ... but he was here now. It really didn't matter that he was quiet when everyone else was yelling and laughing.

Professor McGonagall had been right all along.

Professor McGonagall had – _Sweet Circe! Professor McGonagall just caught the snitch!_

_

* * *

  
_


	14. Evening

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

Reviews are awesome, reviews are cool! I really do appreciate all of you!

* * *

Not short, but not long either ... all talk and no action. Maybe next time. :-)

* * *

Evening

* * *

"Did you see Harry's face?" Ron chuckled, stretching out on the grass and turning his head to grin over at Hermione.

"It was hard to miss," Hermione grinned too, "for a moment there I thought he was going to fall off his broom."

"Can hardly blame him though," said Ron. "She's got to be close to 80 by now, who would have thought?"

"Oh, I'm not surprised. She did captain the Gryffindor team three years running, and they never lost a match in the 6 years she was on the team," Hermione yawned and rolled over onto her side, leaning up onto her elbow.

"Really? I didn't know that."

"You would have, if you had ever read Ho-"

"Hogwarts, A History," Ron laughed and wiggled closer to her. "Why would I need to do that, when I've got you to tell me all about it?"

"Oh, very funny!" Hermione tried to sound annoyed, but couldn't really pull it off – especially now, with him looking so pretty in the moon-light ... although she was quite sure he wouldn't have appreciated that particular description, but there was no other thing for it. What with the way his skin almost glowed against his shadow darkened hair and his eyes glinted, reflecting the light spilling from the kitchen window several feet away from them. She was visited with a sudden urge to spread herself over his long, lean form but contented herself with merely resting her free hand on his stomach.

"So ..." he was looking up at her, studying her intently and then threading his fingers through hers.

"So?"

"So ... about Hogwarts."

Her breath caught momentarily in her throat. She had known that they'd have to have this conversation at some point, but hadn't really wanted to think too hard about it. "What about Hogwarts?"

"Are you going back?"

"Are you?" She countered, searching his face and finding it completely unreadable.

"No, I don't think so," he shook his head. "I'm done. Even if I wanted to go back - which I don't, not really - I'm not sure I could leave George at this point. What about you?"

"I don't know." Hermione frowned into the darkness. "I always thought that I'd finish my education, but I'm not sure I can do it. Or even if I should."

"What?" Ron looked stunned at this. "What makes you say that?"

"Do you want me to go, Ron?" she asked suddenly, gripping his hand tighter.

"Absolutely not," he told her promptly. "I can't think of anything worse. I'd miss you like mad, and I know Harry would too."

"I know." She bent to kiss his forehead. "I can't imagine being at Hogwarts without you, or Harry, when it comes down to it. We've been together for years, Ron, and I'm not sure ..."

Ron sighed, hating what he knew he was about to say but knowing that he really had to say it. "Ginny will be there, and Nev. Luna. Probably others that should have done seventh with us ... you wouldn't be on your own." He rolled over and mirrored her pose. "I don't like it at all, but I think you should go. Can you really tell me that you'll be happy if you don't get your NEWTS?"

"I don't know," Hermione whispered, suddenly feeling overwhelmed and unable to look him in the eye. She focused on his chin instead. "I don't need them. Kingsley told me I've got a job with him, whenever I want it. Where ever I want it, in fact. But I just don't know." She scowled suddenly. "I HATE not knowing."

"Well I can't tell you what to do," Ron unsuccessfully bit back a smile at her outburst.

"Oh, that's helpful," Hermione snorted. "All these years it's been 'Hermione, calm down! Hermione, take a break! Hermione, you study too much!' Now is a very inconvenient time for you to suddenly start respecting my opinion."

His eyebrows shot up, but he said nothing, just looked at her.

"Sorry," she muttered, "that was uncalled for."

"Yes, it was," he agreed, "Hermione, look at me." When she didn't he touched her cheek gently with one finger, running it down her cheek and hooking it under her chin. "I'm not going to tell you what to do with something like this."

"Why?"

"Because it's important. You said 'Or even if I should', what's that about?"

"I don't want to break us up," she muttered, "when you were ... uh, you know, when you were gone over Christmas ... I don't know if Harry told you, it was really hard for us, for me."

"He did tell me, yeah," he whispered. "But this isn't the same thing; it's not breaking us up. Not really."

"Ron? Why did you go, really?" He looked so uncomfortable, so ashamed, that she wished she could snatch the words back as soon as they had come out of her mouth. "Wait! It's OK," she cut in when he made to speak, "it doesn't matter now."

"No," he shook his head, "I'll tell you." He took a deep breath, settled back onto the grass and pulled her down with him, resting her head on his chest. Automatically started to stroke her hair. "It's kind of stupid."

"I'm sure it's not," she told him, again resting her hand on his stomach and letting her eyes drift shut.

"It was the locket," he said quietly. "You know what I was like when I wore it."

"An arse."

"Exactly. A complete arse. It made me mental. Thinking I wasn't good enough, Harry didn't really need me, my parents didn't love me."

"But you must have known that wasn't true," Hermione protested, lifting her head slightly to look at him in shock.

"No, I didn't." Ron shrugged and stared resolutely at the night sky. "It took every little thing I was scared of and made it real. Do you remember the night I left? When we found out about Ginny trying to take the sword from Snape; you two were all exited and figuring things out, but all I could hear was Harry laughing. All I could think was that he got everything, everyone loved him and he didn't care. I hated him and I had to get away from him and ..." he took another deep breath, "and I had to get away from you."

"From me? Why did you have to get away from me?"

"Because you loved him too and I couldn't stand it. I would never measure up to The Great Harry Potter and I knew that you'd choose him over me, just like everyone else."

"I didn't know." She tightened her hold on him. "And I gave you such a hard time when you came back."

"How were you to know?" Ron chuckled suddenly. "You weren't as bad as you could have been, anyway. I was expecting much worse."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be silly, there's nothing to be sorry for. I'm the one who let Voldemort get to me. Anyway, that's enough of that morbid rubbish! It's all done with now. When are you and Ginny going shopping?"

"Shopping?" Hermione laughed at his abrupt change of subject. "Why would we be going shopping?"

"Come on now," he teased, "are you trying to tell me that you're going to this big event thing of Kingsley's without new dress-robes?"

"Oh damn. I'd forgotten about that." Hermione muttered, resting her chin on her hand. "That's one of the reasons I'm not sure I want to go back to Hogwarts."

"I'm not following," he stated, letting his hand drop from her hair and wrapping his arms around her.

"It's going to be all over The Prophet," she worried her bottom lip between her teeth, "everyone will know."

"Everyone knows anyway," Ron pointed out.

"I'm not sure I want that kind of attention," she told him, "Professor McGonagall told me, just before tea, that if I go back I'll be Head Girl."

"But that's great!"

"Everyone will think that it's because of the war, that I haven't really earned it."

"Hermione Granger!" Ron sat up suddenly, dislodging her from her comfortable spot half across his chest, and stared at her in disbelief. "Anyone who knows you will know that you're Head Girl because you've earned it. Even without the war you would have been Head Girl!"

"Do you really think so?" She asked in a small voice.

"I know so. If you don't believe me, send an owl to McGonagall and ask her."

"Oh, I couldn't do that!" Hermione protested. "She's far too busy, and she might tell me I was just to be kind."

"McGonagall? Say something like that just to be kind?" Ron laughed outright at that. "You do realise who we're talking about, don't you?"

"Well, OK." Hermione smiled slightly. "I'll give you that one. Even so. I still don't know what to do."

"Hermione," Ron settled back down, yet again, and pulled her back over him, yet again, this time with her body covering most of his, and cupped her face in both of his hands. "I'm sure you'll decide on the best thing. Whatever that is, is fine with me. If you go, I'll hate it and miss you like mad. I'll admit that I'm selfish enough to want you here with me all the time, but on the other hand ..." he kissed her lips gently, "it would only be for a year and I can't see you not getting your NEWT'S. If you decide to take a job with Kingsley instead, that will be great, because we'll get to see each other all of the time, but -"

"You can't see me not getting my NEWT'S," she supplied for him. She tried to make her voice light and tapped her fingers playfully on his chest. "If I go, you won't forget about me, will you?"

"Will you forget about me?" he chuckled, running his hands down her back and holding her close.

"Good heavens no! How could I possibly forget you?"

"There we are then. No one is going to forget anyone. So it's not really breaking us up, is it?" He told her. "So write to McGonagall and see what she has to say."

"There's something else," Hermione admitted, chewing her lip pensively.

"What's that?"

"Well, Kingsley said that he'll pay me for what I'm doing with Umbridge's files, but that shouldn't take much more than a month. Now that I'm on my ..." her voice trailed off uncertainly. "I spent half of my savings already, while we were ... away, I can probably pay for my books, and new robes, but I don't think I can afford a year's tuition at Hogwarts. Your Dad said that he'd take care of it, but I can't ask that of him! Your Mum has already refused to accept any board and I don't want to be a drain on them."

"I'll help you," said Ron immediately, "I've got work now."

"You will not!" Hermione scowled down at him. "I won't be a kept woman!"

"No one is suggesting that you should be kept woman," Ron snorted, "you sound like Mum!"

"Well, regardless of that, thank you but no. If I do this, it will be on my own."

"If you say so," Ron shrugged, "maybe that's another thing you could write to McGonagall about – I'm pretty sure Harry said something about Hogwarts having some kind of fund."

"When did he say that?" Hermione asked, temporarily diverted.

"Oh, you know. He told as after looking at Dumbledore's memory of Riddle in the pensieve – the one from the orphanage."

"Right. I'll owl Professor McGonagall," Hermione nodded brusquely, "and then I'll decide what I'm going to do."

"Good." Ron nodded too. "So you can calm down now and stop worrying, right?"

"Oh, hush," she wrinkled her nose at him. "We should go in soon."

"Not yet," he disagreed, "stay and talk a bit longer."

"Well," the corners of her mouth lifted gently, "I suppose it is the first time I've had you to myself all day."

"Exactly, and I think we should -"

"Ron, Hermione," Charlie called from the kitchen window; "Mum says to come in now and have a cup of tea before bed. She wants us to finish the left-over's."

"Bloody hell," Ron grumbled, "one day I'm going to ... to ... ugh!"

"I know!" Hermione laughed at his expression, "inside then."

They disentangled themselves quickly and she took his hand as he held it out to her, pulling her up and then to his chest for a brief hug and chaste kiss on the lips.


	15. Evening II

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Evening II

* * *

The house was quiet, as would be expected given the hour of the night – or the morning, to be accurate.

_2.13am and all is well._

More or less.

_What made me drink so much tea directly before bed? Surely by now I know better._

Rolling her eyes in the darkness, she crept out of bed – freezing when the old floor creaked in protest beneath her feet – and made for the bedroom door. Cracked it open.

It creaked.

She froze again, momentarily, and glanced at the sleeping form in the other bed.

_Sleeping like a log. _

Ever-so-carefully she eased the door open just enough to slip through and made sure it was shut securely – there was a stiff breeze outside, and it wouldn't do for the door to slam.

Crossing the small landing, she pressed her ear against the bathroom door.

_Definitely free. Thank Merlin!_

*

_No, never drinking tea before bed again._

She washed her hands and was in the middle of drying them when the door was silently pushed open and a figure loomed in the frame, making her jump in fright.

"Oh! Sorry!"

"Bloody hell!" She whispered, holding her hand to her heart and stifling a laugh. "You scared the life out of me!"

"I didn't know anyone would be in here," he chuckled quietly, "what are you doing up?"

"Too much tea," she explained, "you?"

"Uh ... yeah ... something like that."

_Is he blushing?_

She couldn't say what made her do it, but she looked down.

_Oooooh. That's ... large. And I'm sure it has nothing to do with tea._

"Um ..." she moistened her suddenly dry lips, conscious of his eyes lingering on her mouth as she did so. "Should I ... um ... go?" Her cheeks flared and she couldn't help glancing down again and reflexively took a step closer.

He seemed to be at a loss for words, standing there in his vest and pyjama bottoms ... _tented_ pyjama bottoms.

"You -" his voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "You don't have to go."

She didn't think she'd ever seen him blush so violently.

"Could I watch?" she whispered, half mortified at her boldness.

He nodded abruptly, a mixture of alarm and something unrecognisable written over his face.

He shut the door and Hermione's eyes widened as Ron took out his wand ... flicking it at the door and muttering under his breath.

_Looks like someone has had some practice._

The idea that he'd been in here, at night, more than once ... directly in front of her bedroom door.

_Oh, my ..._

... and she let out an involuntary, but tiny, moan as he pushed his pyjama bottoms down to his thighs.

She bit her lip when his right hand wrapped around his erection.

She sat down abruptly on the edge of the old bath as he started to pump his hand up and down while he bit the knuckles of his left hand to stifle a deep groan, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

She couldn't stand it any longer! There was a dull ache throbbing strongly between her legs and her fingers itched – _just itched! _– she needed to touch him.

Standing up on wobbly knees, she took his fist from his mouth and snaked her arms around his neck, pulled his head down and slanted her lips over his.

She found herself flush along the side of his long body, his tongue invading her mouth in time to the shift of his right hand ... his left moving down her back and cupping her bum ... squeezing ... pulling her closer.

_More._

His bollocks, heavy in her hand, silky soft but somehow rough ... _how does that even make sense?_

His moans swallowed into her, everything suddenly faster and harder and he seemed to be feeling some sort of desperation as his bollocks tightened in her hand ... frantic ... a low animalistic growl that set her nerves deliciously on edge as she sensed his release ...

Light kisses all over her face, both of his arms around her, catching her bottom lip between both of his and then the words murmured against her cheek, "Let me ... let me ... touch you ..."

She was nodding, her breath coming a little faster.

"Please."

Hands. Warm hands on her hips, pushing away the irritant of her underwear. _Oh, my. _His fingers, light and gentle, and she whimpered ... clutching at him tightly as he found the spot that made her jerk toward him.

He was saying something to her, but she couldn't make it out for the blood rushing through her and her head was falling onto his shoulder. He must have taken it as a positive declaration, did it all again ... taking heed of her plea ... "more" and "harder" ... held her upright as she strained toward him, crashing her mouth over his, shaking a little before a flash ran through her and all she could do was follow it through.

"Fuck, Hermione," he was kissing her again, pushing her hair from her damp brow.

"Fuck indeed," she agreed, resting her fingers at the base of his neck. "That was ... fuck, Ron."

"Yeah," he breathed, gazing at her in something akin to awe.

"Can you clean us up?" Practicality was returning to her as her heartbeat slowed to a more natural pace. "I don't have my wand."

"Yeah, yeah." Groping behind him he found it without his eyes leaving hers. They were clean in an instant and he was blushing again. "We'll, uh, do that again sometime soon, yeah?"

"Definitely," she agreed, watching him take the protective wards from the door and cautiously pull it open.

"Sleep well," he whispered outside her door, pulling her close and dropping a kiss on her temple.

"I will. You too."

He shot her a suddenly wicked look. "No worries about that."

* * *

*

* * *

_I couldn't resist this:_

He shut the door and Hermione's eyes widened as Ron took out his wand ... flicking it at the door and muttering under his breath.

_Because of this:_

http : // www . youtube . com / watch?v = yb2V1 VRlDH4

_Without the spaces. It's at 1.30 in. LOL_


	16. The Other Side Of It

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

The Other Side Of It

Back up a little bit ... what was Ron thinking before he went down to the bathroom? He rambles a lot, in his head.

* * *

When Ron Weasley thought about it, he'd not had a decent night sleep in ages. Sure, he'd had the odd one here and there – but never three or four in a row ... and certainly not a solid week of good sleep.

How long had it been?

He was surprised to realise that it was probably close to two years. How was that even possible?

Longer maybe. Yeah. It had started in fifth. He'd slept light that year, his subconscious keeping an ear out for Harry ... but he'd still slept.

When Sirius had been killed, well, things had got slightly worse. He'd lay awake at night, worrying about Harry. Worrying about Hermione ... and reluctantly reliving those terrifying moments when he'd finally come to his senses in the hospital wing – reliving the deep, crushing fear at the sight of her in the next bed, pale and fragile looking; apparently barely clinging to life, if the whispered conversation between Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall was to be believed.

Sixth was terrible. Between the "joy" that was going out with Lavender – although it had been good for his ego in the beginning – and the resultant breakdown of his friendship with Hermione. Well. Granted, that had turned out to be temporary – but he hadn't known that at the time. Before that, there was the stress of his inability to play Quiddich to keep him up at night.

Then Dumbledore's death. That's when it had all gone to shit. There was nothing to stop the war from rolling out of control, with Dumbledore gone.

He was immediately visited with the same fear he'd been flooded with at the end of fifth – but in a much broader sense now. It wasn't just Harry and Hermione in danger any more, it was EVERYONE ... fine, it always had been; but until that moment it had seemed more of a distant threat, not a happening here and now we could all die tomorrow actuality.

Then they'd gone hunting for those bloody horcruxes.

The less said about that, the better.

Well ... actually, it hadn't been too bad at the very start. Hanging around in Grimmauld Place was depressing as hell, but at least it was safe. He'd been at ease there, almost, once he knew that his family was still in good shape after Bill's wedding.

After they found that fucking locket though?

Not good.

The less said about THAT ...

Although the night he'd found them again, and destroyed the vile thing, that night he had slept well – didn't last though ... it was back to keeping watch at all hours and hoping that one day Hermione might find it in her heart to speak to him again.

Xeno Lovegood's house? Stressful.

Harry obsessed with the Hallows? Stressful.

Mind you, it was because of that little event that he and Hermione had become close again. With Harry off Merlin-knows-where in his own head, it had given him the opportunity to prove to her that he was serious about the job at hand. Serious about pulling his own weight. Serious about taking her thoughts into account and talking their next moves in the hunt through.

But then came Malfoy Manor.

Stressful wasn't the word for it. Soul crushingly, heart breakingly unbearable didn't even cover it.

He'd had nightmares about it for weeks after. Hermione's screams would echo in his head after he'd woken abruptly in a cold sweat and he'd be awake for hours, willing the dawn to come. If it wasn't that, it was watching Wormtail strangled by his own hand ... again and again and again. Not pleasant, and he felt just a little bit sorry for the man.

Only a little bit, mind.

He'd played a big part in the whole mess and Ron could never forgive him for that ... but on the other hand, no one deserved to die that way and he couldn't help wondering what he would do if he was put in the same situation.

What would he do?

He HOPED that he'd be brave and honourable like Sirius – died rather than betray his friends. He was quite sure that he would ... if only for the fact that he'd never be able to live with himself after. Still, you don't know until you're in the situation. So. Yeah, he felt a little bit sorry for him.

Poor Dobby.

There was another one, brave and dying for it. Ron was convinced that it was thanks to him that they were all still breathing today. He just wished that Dobby was too.

Merlin, he could go on like this all night.

You'd think that after the Battle of Hogwarts things would have calmed down, but of course they didn't.

Dead Fred. Dead Lupin. Dead Tonks. Dead Friends. Dead bloody everywhere he looked. Still there now, sometimes – and then Australia.

Poor Hermione. He couldn't even imagine ...

Poor George. Thank Merlin for George.

But even George ... sitting up with George and Hermione all night, trying to keep their demons at bay while all the time pushing away his own ... and sometimes hearing both of his parents weeping together in the dead of night.

_Things are getting better now though._

But he still wasn't sleeping well.

At least now it was for a nice reason.

Hermione.

Without fail he'd wake during a wicked, wicked dream – usually involving her lush, firm arse under his palms while he –

_Stop it your randy fuck!_

But how could he stop? This time he'd woken up with the image of his head buried in her tits. He'd felt those tits and they were just perfect ... especially the way her nipples went all hard and pointy when he played with them ... and the noises she made, they drove him mad.

_Oh, for FUCK SAKE! How are you going to get any sleep like this?_

THIS was why he was currently wide awake at 2.14am, no hope of getting back to sleep until he dealt with his quickly growing hard-on.

He could have cheerfully throttled Charlie, last night, although he knew it wasn't really Charlies fault ... it was just so difficult to get Hermione on her own for a decent length of time. OK, so things were on the improve in that direction, over the last couple of weeks.

_Oh yeah. That's definitely looking up._

He stifled a groan, remembering the last time they'd been alone together.

His cock twitched.

But last night, they had actually been alone and talking for a change. Yeah, they talked a lot anyway – but never when they were alone ... and there were things he wanted to say, things he needed to tell her; and he didn't want an audience when he did it.

It had been getting more and more difficult to keep it in – it had come SO close to slipping out, especially on Saturday afternoon after Quiddich.

It just didn't seem like a good idea to tell her he was in love with her when he was about to blow his load.

She might not take him seriously; think that it was the load talking – or even worse, she might think that he was only saying it to try and get his end in.

Not that he didn't want too.

He definitely wanted to get his end in ... Merlin yes; he wanted it in the worst way.

But he still wasn't going to say it – at least not the first time – when they were snogging. He wanted them both to be in their right minds when he said it; and they weren't when they were snogging.

_Oh, fuck it!_

He had to wank. There was no way around it, and no way was he going to do it with Harry in the room.

He knew the way to the bathroom so well that he could get there with his eyes closed ... fuck knows he'd been in there enough lately.

Out the door, down the stairs, across the landing, down more stairs and another landing.

Hover in front of her door. Always. Just for a few seconds, thinking about her sleeping.

Sighing with relief, he pushed open the bathroom door.


	17. The Despot In The Corner

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

I had a bit of a day, today ... did no housework what-so-ever ... it was GREAT! I wish I could get away with it all the time, but it doesn't work that way. The dishes need to be done and the kids are in sport uniform, instead of formal, tommorrow; so the washing needs to get done too. Poop. Why does it always take two or three days to catch up one missed one?

(That's a round-about way of saying that you won't see anything added to this for a few days at least!)

In response to the reviews, ummm ... it feels old to say "I really appreciate them", but I do!

* * *

The Despot In The Corner

George. Not happy in parts, not happy at all - consider that a bit of a warning ... and I REALLY hope I didn't get overly dramatic.

* * *

There were quite a few people in the shop. No, it wasn't insane busy like it had been before; but for the first day back after an extended period, it was definitely respectable.

George smiled in satisfaction.

This was where he belonged and he wondered, now, how he could ever have considered walking away.

He'd considered far worse than walking away though, in those first bleak days.

Alone in his childhood room with the other bed; empty and mocking him. He was hardly able to speak – unable to finish a full sentence on his own ... he'd never needed too, before. They'd always spoken for each other – it had started as a joke to confuse people.

It had always been about confusing people.

Their mother, bless her, had always tried to dress them as individuals – decrying the practise of clothing twins in identical outfits as "twee" and "quite simply an utterly ridiculous thing to do."

She'd given up by the time they were four years old – not only were they constantly given identical outfits as gifts by well meaning grandparents and relatives, but they themselves insisted on dressing the same; going so far as to sneak upstairs to change if she had clothed them individually.

Yes, it was always about confusing people.

That was the problem.

There would no longer be any confusion – he was George and everybody knew it.

So what was his purpose in life now?

He couldn't speak and he couldn't stand to look at the empty bed on the opposite side of the room – yet his eyes constantly slid to it, he couldn't tear his gaze away.

He quickly came to realise his problem. He wasn't a whole man; he was torn in half, broken beyond repair.

Useless.

Utterly and irrevocably useless.

Food didn't taste anymore, it was like dry parchment to be chewed on mechanically – dutifully – because he could feel his mothers gaze boring through the back of his skull, her eyes red-rimmed and face tight with worry.

He didn't want to worry her.

He didn't want to worry anyone ... but he was a useless lump of broken man and a degraded burden to all of them.

He was sitting at the kitchen table, when he decided.

The house was mercifully empty – such a rarity – and for the first time he felt free.

There was a mirror over the kitchen mantle. He could see himself partially reflected in it and his lips drew up into a bitter smile.

A partial reflection. Half of himself. Half of Fred.

How poetic and how true.

He laughed. Such a foreign, twisted sound. No one was there to hear it and he was glad. He wanted it to be like this all the time – free from the pitying looks and quite tones that weighed on him, pressed him down and damn near suffocated him with his own guilt.

The river.

They had spent a lot of time by the river, hatching plans and schemes.

Good times.

Good times.

_No more good times for Georgie! Not now and not ever!_

The voice in his head seemed to be mocking him, but he was beyond caring. The years ahead stretched out like a black cloud, empty and broken and utterly, completely useless.

Alone.

The river could set him free.

The river could set him free – the freezing rush of water and the jagged sharp rocks were just what he needed to make him a whole person again.

The time had come and suddenly he was impatient. Ginning at Fred in the mirror.

_I'll see you soon._

He finished his cold, tasteless tea. Washed the cup and put it away, heading for the door without a backward look.

The door was torn from his hand and he came face to face with Ron and Hermione.

Ron looked dreadful, really dreadful, and Hermione looked even worse. She looked broken. It was something he knew all too well.

Ron was saying something about sleeping draught; so George drifted off to the potions cabinet, rummaged through it carelessly and followed Ron into the front room.

Yes, they both looked terrible and a tiny spark of something glimmered in his mind.

_I'll go to the river tomorrow, they need me today._

Now, in the hustle of the shop, he wondered how he could possibly have sunk to such a low.

This is where he belonged.

Ron was behind the counter, explaining the side-effects of a Daydream Charm to a pair of blushing middle-aged witches.

Charlie was bringing another carton of Skiving Snackboxes upstairs – it was by far their biggest seller.

Maybe it was time to teach Ron the spell-work behind their more popular items ... the new school year wasn't all that far off, all things considered.

*

"Lunch break, mate," said George, sidling over to Ron during a lull, "you've got 45 minutes."

"Great!" Ron looked rather frazzled.

"Hermione coming over?" George asked casually, taking another box from Charlie. "Thanks, I recon we could do with two more of the Waltz-Whistling Kettles."

Charlie nodded wearily and set off back down to the cellar.

"No, she's eating at her desk today and coming after work," Ron said, frowning slightly. "Percy promised to look in on her though – make sure she actually eats, you know?"

"Percy?" George snorted. "And who will look in on him to make sure HE eats?"

"Uh ... Hermione?" Ron snorted too.

"Great," George shook his head, "I can really see that working out."

*

George was serving a young boy and his mother – two fake wands, underwear variety, and a full set of dancing cutlery – when he happened to glance out the shop window.

Thank Merlin Ron was back from lunch.

"Ron. Take the counter. I'm going downstairs for a cup of tea with Charlie." Not waiting for an answer, he disappeared, leaving a bemused Ron to stare after him.

Shrugging to himself, he fixed a smile on his face and turned to the next customers in line at the register.

Middle-aged wizard with young teen daughter – two Pigmy Puffs, pink.

Teenage boy – five Edible Dark Marks, three Self Correcting Quills.

Thirty-something witch – two Skiving Snackboxes.

_Oh well, it takes all types._

Gaggle of giggling girls – five Daydream Charms. "Sorry, you have to be over 16 to buy those."

Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson –

"Oh. Hello." The smile half slipped from Ron's face, but he hitched it up again. "How are you both?"

"We're good," said Lee, while Angelina looked anywhere but at Ron. "How are you?"

"Plodding along," Ron shrugged. _So that's why he pissed off so quickly. _"Can I help you with something?"

"No. No. Just wanted to say hello," Ron was gratified to see Lee was looking decidedly uncomfortable. "George around at all?"

"He's on a break," said Ron abruptly. _Where the FUCK have you been? _

"Right. OK." Lee faltered. "Tell him we were in, that we said hello."

"You could probably tell him yourself," Ron pointed out stiffly. "Send him an owl or something."

"Ron ..." this was from Angelina and she spoke so quietly he could hardly hear her. "It hasn't been easy ..."

"No?" Ron leaned forward a little. "It hasn't been easy at all. For anyone." He frowned suddenly and added in a low voice; "You didn't even come to his funeral!"

Straightening up again, he took a side-step and smiled at the people next in line. "Can I help you with something?"

Group of teenage boys – 10 Ton-Tongue Toffees.

Harrassed looking father with three little girls - 3 Pigmy Puffs, all purple. Muggle Card Tricks. Headless Hat, black with red feather.

*

"Well!" George clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. "I think we can call that a successful first day back in the saddle."

Charlie and Ron just grunted their agreement.

"Early start tomorrow," George went on, "so be prepared for a busy day! Once word gets around that we're back in business, things should pick up a bit."

Charlie and Ron just grunted their agreement.

"And the school year starts in a few short weeks; we need to be prepared for that." George smirked at their third round of grunts.

"You both look a bit worn out," George laughed, "get out of here – I'll see you at dinner."

"I'm meeting Bill for a quick one at The Leaky," Charlie mumbled, "anyone tagging?"

"Maybe later," Ron mumbled back, "I'm waiting for Hermione. Ten more minutes she has, and then I'll go drag her from the desk."

"I can see the headlines now! Desperate Boyfriend Kidnaps Ministry Worker." George chuckled wryly. "I've got a couple of things to sort out here, but I might stop in for a drink after."

"Suit yourselves." Charlie shrugged. "I'll see you both later, either way."

*

"Butterbeer?" George waved his wand at Ron's nod and two bottles materialised. "So what did they say?"

Ron took a long pull of his drink before answering. "Nothing much. Said hello, want me to tell you they were here."

George grunted and shrugged.

"I might have been a bit rude," Ron said casually.

"Oh well." George shrugged again. "What did you say?"

"Not much," Ron snorted, "it was more the tone. I told them to send you an owl."

"Thanks, Ron."

"No problem."

CRACK!

Ron slopped his beer down his front, and then jumped up when Hermione appeared before them.

"Drinking already?" She frowned at them both playfully and kissed Ron's cheek.

"The Demon Drink," George agreed, immediately conjuring one for her. "It's a slippery slope, you know."

"Thanks," Hermione took the bottle from him and sat down beside Ron on the crate next to his, leaning her free hand on his thigh and gracing him with a happy smile. "Busy day? Word at the Ministry is that Weasley's has re-opened, everyone was buzzing about it most of the day."

"Excellent," George laughed.

"Very busy," Ron nodded, draping his arm around her back, "and it's only the beginning, according to the despot in the corner."

George eyed them, deeply amused. "Go on, get it over with and snog, you both know you want too."

"George!" Hermione protested, blushing.

"I'll be out front, taking inventory," he grinned, completely unrepentant. "You've got 10 minutes, then I've got a favour to ask of you both."

*

He hadn't been lying when he said they'd just left the place as it was.

Empty cups were on every surface, some of them with strange growths spilling over the rims. Bits of paper littered the coffee table and counter tops, hastily scrawled notes over them which Hermione recognised as the beginnings of new spells.

The ancient, smelly Chinese dinner looked as though it was ready grow its own legs and walk away.

With a few well-considered waves and swishes of her wand, Hermione had the front room and kitchen a little more organised – if not particularly clean – and she set the dishes to wash themselves before turning back to Ron and George.

Ron had sorted out George's bedroom in a couple of minutes. Who knew that he could actually pull off a decent household spell when he really wanted, it was certainly something he'd kept well hidden up til then.

Now the three of them stood in front of a shut door.

Silence.

She turned to Ron, who seemed to sense her looking at him and met her eyes. His were as wet as hers, and they both reflexively glanced at George.

His head was bowed, as if in prayer. Eyes tightly shut.

"I can't do it."

"So don't."

"We'll come back tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah. Thanks, you two."


	18. Manic Monday

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

I'm really glad people seem to be liking the way this story is going - I'm writing it to my own taste, but the reviews are still great! I'm also perfectly happy to take negative thoughts into account too - as long as its not OMFGYOUSUCK, that I'd probably laugh at and then ignore - so feel free. :-)

* * *

Manic Monday

This one is short! I originally had this as part of a longer chapter; but the other part has gone (is going LOL) in places I wasn't expecting, so I've decided to put this bit out on its own so that it doesn't swallowed up. I also wanted to put this out because it has something to do with what's going to happen a couple of years down the track.

* * *

It was a rare thing for Percy Weasley to be rendered speechless.

He walked into his office bright and early – as was his habit – and found his in-tray full to bursting.

It made him smile. He did love a good, solid day of work.

He sat down, sighing happily, cracked his knuckles and picked up his favourite quill – twirling it in his fingers for a moment.

Kinglsey breezed in, pulled up a straight backed chair, grinned happily and sat down with a plunk. The chair protesting mightily, especially when he leaned back on the rear legs. Percy had to bite down a warning. "Good morning, Kingsley."

"As you know," Kingsley had begun without preamble, "on Friday night the Ministry is holding an event."

Percy nodded dutifully. Of course he knew, he was helping to organise it.

"Not only will it be my swearing in as Minister of Magic," Kingsley went on, "but there will be a ceremony honouring those who died for our freedom, and awards to be given to pivotal members of our community."

Percy nodded again. He knew that too.

"As the Junior Undersecretary, I'm well aware that you know all of this already."

"Yes, sir." Percy would never say – or even give a hint of – such a thing, but he was beginning to wish that Kingsley would get to his point. There was work waiting to be done.

"I intend to make some changes to the way things are run around here," Kingsley grinned again – the chair protested again ... and Percy winced slightly.

_Any moment now, that chair is going to break and that just won't do._

"The first thing on the agenda will be a review of the Ministry Officials. A much needed shakeup is in order, as I'm sure you'll agree."

"Yes, sir." Oh, now it was coming. He'd been expecting this to happen any day. As part of the old Ministry and all of its corruption, Percy had wondered for how much longer he'd be keeping his job.

"As such, come next Monday morning, I'm hoping that you'll be taking on a new role."

Well, that didn't sound so bad. He knew he could always work his way back up the ladder. No, being down-graded wasn't so bad at all ... and infinitely preferable to unemployment.

"I have every confidence that you will put your best effort into your new role as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister."

Percy's quill dropped from his suddenly nerveless fingers.

"I ... what? I ... I ..."

Yes, he was without the ability of coherent speech. Or thought, for that matter.

Kingsley just continued to grin at him maddeningly, although he finally took pity on the chair and stood up. "Well, I'd best be going. I've got a lot on today."

With a sweep of his robes, Kingsley turned to leave. "By the way, Percy," he stopped at the door, "while you're talking this over with your Dad, you might mention to him that as the soon to be appointed Head of Muggle Relations, I expect him to give a speech on Friday night. Nothing too elaborate. I'm sure he'll come up with something suitable."

*

"Dad, could I have moment of your time?" Percy asked, poking his head into his father's office.

"Of course son!" Arthur Weasley dropped the over-long memo he'd been reading onto his desk. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I wanted to ask your opinion about something." Percy paced nervously around the small room.

"Fire away then." Arthur leaned back in his chair and smiled in an encouraging sort of way.

"Kingsley's just offered me the post of Senior Undersecretary," said Percy, slightly breathless and more than a little unsure.

"Well that's wonderful news!" Arthur beamed. "Well done!"

"So you don't think - do you think I should take it?" Percy began pacing again.

Arthurs eye brows shot up. "Don't you?"

"I don't know. I want to take it – but I'm not sure I'm the right person for the job," he picked at his sleeve, clearly agitated. "I'm not convinced I can be trusted with such responsibility." He looked at his father pleadingly. "I don't want to forget what's right for the sake of power."

"Is that what this is all about?" Arthur said kindly. "Sit down Percy, please, you're making me dizzy with all that pacing. I have absolute faith that you will do the right thing. We've all made mistakes, the key is to learn from them."

"Do you really think so?" Percy looked relieved.

"I know so," Arthur nodded firmly. "The very fact that you are worried about it means you'll do the right thing."

"Good." Percy smiled suddenly. "I've a message for you, from Kingsley."

"What's that?" Arthur asked, curious.

"He said for me to tell you that as the about to be appointed Head of Muggle Relations, you need to write a speech for Friday night."

"I ... what? I ... I ..."

*


	19. Manic Monday II

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

I "love" the beginning of the new school year. It's always really busy, and yet I couldn't tell anyone what I've really been doing - it just seems to be a blur of sausage sizzles to meet new parents and catch up with the teachers again. Then there's getting back into the homework routine (ugh, I hated it when I was at school and I can't say I like it any better now), and getting up EARLY to make sure everyone is showered, clothed, fed, watered and out the door early enough to either catch the bus or be driven (depending on which age/school is applicable).

THIS has been sitting around in my notebook for daaaaays! I'm not really thrilled with it (I have trouble wrapping my head around Harry and Ginny), but it's OK and will lead somewhere so here it is ... meanwhile I'll go type some more and see if I can't shape it into something I'm happy with. :-)

* * *

Manic Monday II

* * *

Surreal.

That was the only way to describe it.

They'd apparated to Hogsmede, walked through the quiet streets – it was still early – and poked their heads in The Hogs Head to say hello to Aberforth.

Predictably, Aberforth had scowled at them and muttered something along the lines of "Here comes trouble", and followed it up with a surly "Good to see you're still alive, Potter. Keep him out of trouble won't you, Weasley."

Then there had been the bone-crushing hug from Hagrid.

Owl post was nothing compared to the real thing; jogging along to keep up with the enormous strides, smiling and nodding – and suppressing a wry face – to his happy chatter about Grawp and Neringa ... Grawp's new wife.

"Lovely girl she is! Bit of a temper on her, mind ... well, no' too bad, really ... she can take care o' 'erself, is all!"

Walking through the grounds. Harry saw them with fresh eyes. The forest looked the same as ever – nature had a way of taking back what was hers, and the forest was an entity all of its own.

The lake was still black and Harry had to stop for a moment, stare over at the place where he had been with Sirius. The surface of the lake rippled and the very tip of a tentacle flipped out of the water, as if waving hello.

Hogwarts Castle was ... Hogwarts Castle. Imposing and beautiful and somehow all the more regal with its battle scars. Hogwarts had stood strong for a thousand years, and looked to last a thousand more.

But it was different now. He was different now.

They always say – whoever they may be – that you don't know what you've got til it's gone. When they say it, it's usually referring to something good; but Harry knew that it could just as easily apply to something bad.

"When I first came to Hogwarts, I mean on the very first day," he told Ginny quietly, "I was small. Not just in size, either."

"What do you mean?" Ginny gazed up at the castle.

"For the first time in my life, I had friends. Only two of them, but for me it was a really big thing."

"Hagrid and Ron." Ginny smiled at him.

"Yeah, Hagrid and Ron." Harry agreed, linking their fingers together. "This place, it meant everything to me. It really was my home. I don't think Ron or Hermione ever fully understood, but I know Hagrid did."

"Ron and Hermione already had homes, I suppose," Ginny mused, "but Hagrid was like you."

"Exactly. But now it's like ... I don't know how to explain it." He frowned in concentration.

Ginny just waited quietly for him to sort out his thoughts.

"You know how Voldemort was always a bit obsessed with Hogwarts?" Harry asked suddenly.

"Yeah, you've mentioned it before; it was the only place he thought of as home – the place where he knew he was special." Ginny nodded.

"I can completely understand where he was coming from – although for me, it wasn't about being special, it was about being accepted. But now I'm beginning to wonder."

"Wonder about what?"

"Do I seem different, to you?" Harry asked seriously.

"Different?" Ginny frowned. "No, not different. You're happier though, lighter – but that's understandable, given everything."

"I feel different," he stated. "I feel lighter, like you said. At first I thought that it was just because it was all finally over, but now I think it might be something more. You know when Ron and I had that big fight in fourth?"

"About the Triwizard? Yeah, I remember. Ron was a prat."

"Yeah, he was a bit, but I could have fixed it a lot sooner," said Harry.

"What makes you say that?"

"It's almost as if I was enjoying it, in a perverse sort of way. Well, no. Not enjoying it – it was horrible ... but now that I look back on it, there was a part of me that felt ... ugh, I don't know ... it's like I was taking the high moral ground, or something stupid like that."

"Because he should have believed you in the first place."

"Well, yeah, he should have – I'm just saying that he wasn't the only one at fault. I ended up being just as stubborn and pigheaded about the whole thing as he was."

"OK." Ginny shrugged. "I'll take your word for it. Why do you think you did that?"

"I wonder if I had been expecting it all along." Harry pulled a face. "Perhaps it gave some part of me satisfaction to know that in the end – no, satisfaction isn't the right word either, because when we made up I was really happy, it was just such a relief! I don't even know what I'm saying." He fell silent and frowned heavily at the lake, trying to organise his thoughts some more. "It was like I was being proved right."

"That makes no sense at all," Ginny laughed.

"No. I know. But stay with me on this." Harry's words came faster. "Ron and Hermione fancied each other for ages, right? Blind Freddy wouldn't have missed it."

"Blind Freddy?" Ginny giggled.

"It's a muggle thing."

"OK then. Go on."

"I remember one day in sixth year, we were in Herbology – they'd been biting at each other all day, as usual, and then she asked him to go to Slughorn's Christmas do with her."

"I remember that, she was so thrilled when he said he'd go with her," said Ginny.

"And then it all went awry."

"I know. I felt so bad about that, seeing it was mostly my fault," Ginny admitted. "I should have just shut up and said nothing to him about Hermione and Viktor."

"Probably, yeah," Harry conceded, "but if it's your fault, it's also mine."

"How do you come to that brilliant conclusion?"

"Come on Ginny, who was their best friend? I knew exactly why he wasn't speaking to her, and I knew that it was hurting her. Why didn't I just tell her? Better yet, while I was there, why didn't I just tell him to get over it? Give him some encouragement? I'm not sure he even knew that she meant that invitation as a ... a ... DATE. I know he wanted it to be, but I think he talked himself into thinking it was just so he wouldn't feel left out. What kind of friend was I?"

"One with a lot of more important stuff on his mind," Ginny pointed out.

"Maybe. Or maybe I didn't want to get left out in the cold when they coupled up."

"I think you're being too hard on yourself," said Ginny.

"I don't know about that. When Lavender jumped on Ron and they started snogging everywhere, why didn't I tell him the reason she set those canaries on him?"

"Because it should have been obvious and you didn't want to interfere?"

"I think you're being far too nice to me." Harry laughed. "When I was wearing that damn locket, the horcrux, all I could ever think was that Ron and Hermione were talking about me behind my back. That they were planning on ditching me, because I wasn't living up to their expectations."

"OK. But you were wearing a HORCRUX, Harry." Ginny laughed too. "Hermione told me the way it used to make her think - and even though Ron doesn't talk about it, I can tell it gave him a hard time as well."

"Yeah it did, and maybe that's part of my point. I'm not sure."

"You've lost me," Ginny admitted.

"There's this, isn't there?" He tapped the scar on his forehead lightly. "If I was a horcrux of sorts, maybe it had more influence over me than I thought." Harry shrugged.

"But Hermione said that Dumbledore said that what ultimately protected you from Voldemort possessing you was that you have a strong ability to love, and a ... what did she say? A pure soul or something like that. Voldemort was the direct opposite of that." Ginny pointed out.

"Yes ... yes, that's true. But I still can't help wondering. Especially when I think about Ron and Hermione. I had the ability to love, but I resented it too. Maybe that was Voldemort? I mean, the parseltongue was because of him. Maybe it was the same kind of thing; a little bit of the way he felt about the world."

"Maybe it was," Ginny conceded. "Tell me though, Harry. Are we ever going to be able to find out?"

"Probably not," Harry admitted.

"And does it really matter?" Ginny asked pointedly.

"No," Harry laughed suddenly.

"Exactly!" She tugged on his hand. "So that's enough navel gazing for today. If you want, we can talk about it later on, maybe tonight, but right now Professor McGonagall is waiting for us."


	20. Manic Monday III

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Manic Monday III

(Neville)

* * *

There was no feeling quite like it, he reflected as his fingers sunk into the cool dragon dung.

Being useful.

People treated you differently, when you were useful.

Suddenly they were interested in your point of view.

It was nice, being accepted and admired on your own account.

Conversely, it made him appreciate his true friends all the more

His true friends were those who had valued his opinion and accepted him as a friend even when he'd been scared of his own shadow – when he was nobody.

Hermione, Ron, Harry, Ginny and Luna.

Hermione had been the first friend Neville had ever had – although calling her a friend might have been stretching it a bit at first. None-the-less, she had been the first person of his own to age to be nice to him.

She had been such a bossy little madam! She'd found him searching the Hogwarts Express for Trevor and had demanded – with her hands on her hips – to know what the trouble was; and then she'd told him, rather snappishly, to stop crying because she would help him find his toad – although why anyone would WANT a toad was completely beyond her!

For a short while he'd nurtured a secret crush on her – but it was only for a short while because he was also slightly scared of her at the same time. Oh, even at the age of 11 he knew that she meant well, but she had just been so ... so ... clever, really – and not at all shy about letting anyone know it.

He would never have dared to utter the thought aloud at the time – and if asked now he would more than likely keep mum on the subject – but he had secretly half agreed with Ron when he had called Hermione a nightmare. The other half, however, had felt quite sad on her behalf when he'd overheard Parvati telling Lavender that Hermione had been crying about it.

Neville grinned at himself and his reminiscing, putting aside the re-potted dittany and starting on a fresh seedling.

At 11 years old he'd certainly not had the guts to tell Ron that he thought he'd been too mean to Hermione, either. Not while Ron was his dorm mate, and they got along so well. Ron was so loud sometimes, and kind of aggressive, but he was always nice to Neville so it was OK ... but he was still a little bit scared of Ron too, because of the loudness.

And envious. So, so envious.

Neville could still remember, surprisingly clearly, when Mrs Weasley had visited his Gran. He had been about 4 or 5 years old and he'd had the sniffles, as usual, and been confined to his room. But he'd snuck out of bed, feeling very naughty indeed, to watch the Weasley kids from his upstairs window.

They looked like they were having so much FUN, and there were so MANY of them, running around and yelling to each other. The youngest one seemed to be a GIRL – although the only way he could tell was because of her pigtails – and even SHE was allowed to play with her brothers ... and SHE was younger than him ... AND she had dirt on her face and around her mouth and no one was spitting on a hanky to clean her up.

He really wished he could go outside too, but Gran had said he mustn't or his sniffles would turn into a really bad cold which could THEN turn into new ... newmo ... something he didn't want it to turn into, anyway, because then he'd have to go to St Mungo's.

But ... but ... he kept on seeing this boy; he wouldn't keep still long enough for Neville to watch him properly, but he was smaller than the other boys and bigger than the girl. He was running around with a sandwich in his hand. Imagine! Running around and no one was telling him to sit still because he might choke. Neville thought that the sandwich boy was probably about the same age as him.

There were two boys that looked the same, and they were throwing mud at the sandwich boy ... and Neville's insides wiggled with excitement when the sandwich boy picked up a stick and chased them around the tree.

He really wished he had brothers and sisters to chase around. It looked like fun.

Then something happened. The sandwich boy got bored with chasing his brothers and sat down in the middle of Gran's compost heap ... and he looked right up at Neville's window! And he WAVED!

Imagine that! Someone had actually waved at Neville!

Truth be told, even now Neville sometimes still envied the hell out of Ron.

He never envied Harry though, and he was never scared of him. Harry could be moody sometimes, but that wasn't really until later and they'd been friends by then so it didn't really matter.

When Neville had first realised who Harry was he'd been completely over-awed – and ever so slightly resentful. As if he didn't have enough trouble trying to live up to his Mum and Dad ... and now he was in the same year as Harry Potter?

But Harry had been really nice and really NORMAL. Neville had been really relieved to see that The Boy Who Lived was actually pretty average in most of his lessons – AND he got in as much trouble as anyone else.

Trouble? That would be Ginny. Neville hadn't really got to know her until fourth year – and she was just as loud as Ron ... but Neville was used to Ron by then, so it didn't scare him as much. She was just as aggressive too – but having watched Ron and Hermione argue for a few years had somewhat desensitised him to THAT too. Ginny was really nice, really smart, really pretty and really popular ... sometimes Neville had wondered what on EARTH she was doing talking to HIM.

For a while there, especially after the Yule Ball, he felt as if he SHOULD have some sort of crush on her, Gran would have expected it ... so he tried for a few weeks, but it didn't really work.

Neville laughed aloud at himself as he shook the excess dung from his hands and reached over for his favourite secateurs. Fancy trying to talk yourself into having a crush on someone just because it was expected of you.

At least Gran would never expect him to have a crush on Luna. She'd probably be horrified at the idea of it. Which wasn't fair on Luna, actually, because Luna was quite lovely ... once you go used to the odd stuff that she sometimes said. There was another one he envied. Unlike himself, Luna had never felt the need to live up to anyone's standards or expectations ... which was probably lucky, all things considered ... she just stated the absolute truth as she saw it.

Luna could be pretty confronting though, and somewhat unnerving, with her way of staring directly and unabashedly. Still. Last year she had been a rock.

Whenever he had fallen into second-guessing himself, and whenever Ginny had lost her temper, Luna was there to calm them both down and get them both on the right track again.

It had been a blow to them both when Luna had been abducted from the Hogwarts Express over Christmas break, they'd really come to depend on her –

"Neville!"

Startled from his reverie, he dropped his secateurs and spun around in shock. "Harry! Ginny! I was just thinking about you."

"Good to see you, Nev!" Harry grinned.

"You look happy like a pig in mud," Ginny grinned too.

"I am," Neville agreed. "What brings you both here?"

"Professor McGonagall sent us down to give you a hand," said Harry.

"So give us a job," Ginny laughed.

"Oh! OK." Neville looked around quickly. "I'm almost done with the Flitterbloom, but Greenhouse 5 needs some work – it's totally wrecked actually, and we've not had time to get too it yet."

"You're the boss, Nev," Harry nodded, "tell us what to do and we'll do it."

"First you can both sit and talk to me while I finish this," Neville decided, "then we'll head over to 5."


	21. Chaos

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Chaos

Neville, Harry, Ginny, Weasley family ... Ron and Hermione (yay)!

* * *

Neville had never met all of Ron and Ginny's family, not properly ... and especially not all at once.

Obviously he knew Fred and George from school, everyone knew them; and he knew Percy, although not particularly well. He'd met Bill just the one time, the night Dumbledore had died, and he was familiar with Fleur but had never spoken to her. He knew OF Charlie, but had only ever caught glimpses of him during the battle at Hogwarts. He'd also met Mr and Mrs Weasley a handful of times.

So he knew it was a big family – everyone knew that, it was practically the stuff of legend ... OK, so that was stretching it a bit. Still.

It was because of this that Neville had initially demurred when Ginny insisted he go home with them for dinner.

"I wouldn't want to put your Mum to any trouble – it's too short notice," Neville protested.

"Don't be silly," Ginny scolded, "she'll hardly know the difference, isn't that right Harry?"

"She's right, you know," Harry agreed, "but we should probably floo her to let her know first."

"Well obviously," Ginny rolled her eyes, "I was going to do that, but my point is that it won't be extra work. We'll go have lunch at Ab's and floo her from there – you can let your Gran know at the same time, Neville."

So that was how Neville had found himself in the grip of one of the firmest hugs he had received in his life.

It really was a very strange experience!

He hardly knew Mrs Weasley at all, yet it felt as though she was squeezing the very life out of him. Or perhaps trying to squeeze it in. "So nice to see you, Neville!" Then she was shoving him away, though still keeping a firm grip on his arms, and nodding in approval. "Yes, you're looking well!"

Despite the shock of it all, Neville found he rather enjoyed it.

"You're the first ones in," Mrs Weasley told them as she ushered them toward the kitchen table and steered Neville into a chair. "Dinner won't be ready for a good hour or more, so we might as well have a pot of tea, and maybe a biscuit." She waved her wand, somewhat erratically Neville thought, and a large biscuit tin appeared in the middle of the table, along with various tea things. "Now," she settled herself down next to Neville while Harry and Ginny took what seemed to be their usual places at the table. "Tell me all about your day. How are things coming along at Hogwarts?"

The small group spent a very pleasant fifteen minutes chatting about this, that and the other before two more bodies burst through the fireplace in quick succession.

Mr Weasley and Percy; back from their day at work, which prompted enthusiastic greetings from their family - and a slightly shy one from Neville.

Ten minutes in Mr Weasley's company had Neville convinced that Ginny, Ron and the twins had, in the main, inherited their Mum's disposition. Where she was a whirlwind of hugs and forcefulness, he was a quiet handshake and was really rather mild. Percy was still Percy, stiff and formal as ever - Neville felt as though he was meeting one of Gran's friends – although slightly less pompous than he remembered him being at school.

Then came Ron, Hermione and George; apparating into the garden with loud cracks and bursting through the kitchen door.

Neville had been slightly worried about seeing George without Fred for the first time since the funeral, and even knowing ahead of time that it was going to happen didn't help the initial jolt of unpleasant surprise. George seemed well enough, though, and fell into an easy conversation about the shops first day back open.

Ron and Hermione were a bit of a surprise. Neville knew all about them FINALLY getting their acts together and becoming a couple – Harry had told him all about it weeks ago, when they'd bumped into each other at St Mungo's ... and Ginny had laughed about them today, finding the situation endlessly amusing, especially Ron's apparent appreciation of Hermione's work clothes.

They both seemed much calmer for it, although Ron's booming greeting of "NEVILLE! MATE!" and the accompanying slap on the shoulder was true to type, as was Hermione's "Oh, Neville! How nice to see you!" ... although the hug she nearly knocked him over with certainly wasn't. Perhaps that came as a result of living with the Weasley's?

Neville was having trouble figuring out which conversation to join into first. Mr Weasley and Percy were telling Mrs Weasley about their day at work. Harry and Hermione were talking about Kreacher, who was still at Hogwarts and had agreed to stay there until Harry decided exactly what he was going to do with Grimmauld Place. Ron, Ginny and George were talking about the shop.

It was all getting a little bit confusing, but just when George had drawn Neville into their conversation by saying "I'll have to pick your brain about a few idea's I've got for the shop, Neville" there was another loud crack by the door and three more people came trooping in.

"What happened to you lot?" This was Charlie, Neville realised. "I thought you were going to meet us for a drink?"

"Maybe next time," said Ron casually, "inventory took a little bit longer than we thought it would."

"But we have a new face at ze table!" Fleur crossed the room gracefully and kissed Neville's cheek. "Neville Longbottom, is it not?"

"I ... ah ... yes." Neville blushed furiously and felt slightly light headed. "Hello, you're Fleur Weasley."

"Yes, I am." Fleur looked somewhat amused and smiled at the rest of the table before taking a seat beside Percy.

"How are you, Neville?" Bill asked, shaking his hand. "How are you ALL? Charlie tells me at least some of you had a busy day."

Charlie guffawed loudly. "Busy is an understatement."

"Well, now that we're all here," Mr Weasley smiled and looked around. "Percy has something that he'd like to tell you all.'

"Dad!" Percy protested, his ears suddenly as red as his hair.

"Come on Percy, don't be shy," Mr Weasley persisted. "Tell them."

"Well," Percy cleared his throat. "Even though I am not entirely sure I am deserving of the honour, come next Monday I'll be the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic."

This was met with cries of "That's fantastic news!" and "Well done Percy!", but Neville was surprised when Percy held up his hands and shook his head.

"Thank you, really, but the only reason I'm going to take the position is because the new Head of Muggle Relations talked me around. Isn't that right Dad?"

"Dad?" Mrs Weasley's eyes grew round and Neville watched as Mr Weasley's ears turned the same shade of red as Percy's. "Does he mean? Are you?"

Mr Weasley nodded, smiling slightly.

"Oh my goodness Arthur!" Molly flew out of her seat and grabbed her husband. "I can't believe this! Oh, but this is wonderful news! I'm so proud of you both!"

Chaos descended on the room for several minutes.

*

"Molly, you've outdone yourself," Mr Weasley stated with a happy sigh. "That really was a most wonderful dinner."

"Oh pish!" Despite her protest, Mrs Weasley looked pleased. "Now why don't you lot go outside and enjoy the evening while I clean up."

"Absolutely not," said Bill firmly. "You and Dad go outside and relax, we'll sort out the kitchen, isn't that right?"

Before Mrs Weasley could say another word, Mr Weasley had whisked her away into the garden and they could be seen walking toward the orchard.

"I trust you'll be coming to Friday night's event," Percy said to Neville as they waited in line to clean and put away their dishes.

Neville looked blank for a moment. "Event? Oh! The swearing in of the new Minister? I'm not sure, Gran doesn't know if she wants to go or not."

"But Neville, you must!" Hermione cried out from behind him, making him jump slightly. "It won't be the same without you! Luna's coming. I had an owl from her today at work, she's meeting Ginny and I on Wednesday to go shopping for new robes."

Neville wondered vaguely why he needed to know that, but let it pass. "Um, well, I suppose."

"You have to come," Ginny agreed. "We need to represent Dumbledore's Army."

"Indeed, I'm hoping to see all of Dumbledore's Army in attendance," said Percy, "as well as The Order of the Phoenix." He nodded to his older brothers and then turned back to Neville, looking thoughtful. "As a matter of fact, I was going to suggest that you could contact the members of Dumbledore's Army, if you have the time, and ask them personally to all be there."

Neville flushed slightly. "Me? Well, I suppose I could do that ... if you really want me too. I can hardly say no, can I? Not when I've been personally given the job by the Senior Undersecretary."

"That's settled, then." Percy looked pleased.

*

Neville found himself lulled as they sprawled on the grass under the Sycamore tree. Dusk was turning into night and the after effects of Molly's dinner – utter contentment and a strong desire to doze off – had taken hold, to the extent that soft snores from George and Charlie could be heard between the leisurely remarks occasionally passing back and forth.

He supposed he really should head back home. Gran would be expecting him soon, and he was about to make a statement to that effect when he heard Harry say "Have you decided about Hogwarts yet, Hermione?"

"No, not yet," Hermione replied.

Neville's head whipped around so quickly he cricked his neck. "You might not come back?"

"There are a few things I need to discuss with Professor McGonagall before I make a decision."

The idea that she wouldn't take her NEWT's hadn't even occurred to him. It just seemed so out of character that he stared at her, dumbfounded.

She offered him a small shrug and said nothing more, but he couldn't help noticing the way she shifted just that little bit closer to Ron; which made him wonder if Ron was the reason for her hesitation ... but he couldn't think of a way to phrase the question that didn't seem unnecessarily nosy.

Ginny clearly didn't have such quandaries, because she snorted rudely. "You mean it's taken you and Ron so long to get your acts together that you don't dare let him out of your sight again."

"Bollocks," mumbled Ron, who Neville had thought was asleep. "She knows I'll be here when she gets back."

"You better be," Hermione teased as he stretched exaggeratedly and slowly sat up, and then leaned against him when he draped his arm around her shoulders.

"So what's the problem then?" Harry wanted to know, frowning slightly.

Hermione looked distinctly uncomfortable, but was saved answering when Ron said, quite firmly, "Just leave it, yeah?" Then he added, in a milder tone, "She'll sort it out."

Clearly the subject was no longer up for discussion.

Ginny turned it to more mundane matters.

Shopping.

Harry and Ron groaned simultaneously, which made Neville laugh, and earned Harry a slap on the arm from Ginny. "We're going to make a day of it, on Wednesday," she said, "with Luna. We were GOING to suggest that you lot come along."

Oh, the horror.

Ron, Harry and Neville spoke simultaneously.

"I don't need new robes."

"I don't want new robes."

"I don't want to go shopping."

It was Hermione's turn to snort, although she didn't do it quite as rudely as Ginny had earlier. "Have it your own way. But don't come complaining to US when you're on display in something that looks like it's ready for the rag-bag."

"Rag-bag?" Ron turned to Harry, his eyebrows quirked.

"Muggle thing," Harry shrugged dismissively.

"On display?" Neville felt slightly alarmed.

Ginny nodded. "There must be a reason Percy wants all of the DA and the Order to be there, and Dad told Mum he has to write a speech."

"Oh." Harry pulled a face. "Great."

Ron just shrugged. "I'll come, but not all day. I'll get the afternoon off and meet you at lunch."

"But ..." Neville tried to muster up a worthy protest, but found himself falling short. "Fine."

"Lunch it is, then." Harry agreed.

"Excellent!" Ginny sounded entirely too triumphant. "We'll meet you at The Leaky at one."

"And on that happy note," said Neville, "I'd best be off home."

*

"Thanks for that," Hermione smiled up at Ron and slid one of her arms around his waist as they took a stroll around the orchard before bed.

"For what?" Ron smiled back and squeezed her shoulder gently.

"For shutting down that conversation before it even started," Hermione explained.

"Huh?" Ron had to think for a minute. "Oh, that. Yeah." He looked down at her curiously. "You seemed really uncomfortable, so I'm guessing you have your reasons for not telling them about it?"

"I do." Hermione sighed. "It's not that I want to keep anything from them. But you know Harry."

"Ah." Ron nodded, understanding where she was coming from. "He'll offer to help, you'll say no, and then your Hogwarts tuition will be anonymously paid for by a mysterious benefactor."

"That's it exactly," Hermione agreed.

"You do realise there's nothing wrong with accepting help, don't you?" Ron pulled her a little closer.

"In theory."

"Mental, you are," he stated, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, "but far be from me to try and change your mind."

"Hmph." She glared up at him, but couldn't stop the smirk playing at her lips, "I don't know if I should be offended or thank you."

"Just promise me one thing." He stepped in front of her and put both of his hands on her shoulders. "If you're really struggling, you'll tell me. OK?"

"OK," she conceded, gazing up at his earnest face, "if it's that important to you."

He shook his head again and chuckled as they resumed their walk, swinging their joined hands between them. "YOU are that important to me, you daft woman. I love you."

"What am I going to do with you?" She huffed with mock impatience. "First you call me mental, and then I'm daft – but at the same time you're not trying to change my mind and telling me that I'm important to you and you love me."

"Sorry," he laughed. "Won't do it again ... even if it IS true."

"Ron!" But she was laughing too. "You're dreadful! So which is it? Do you love me like we love Harry and Ginny, all brotherly and sisterly, or are you in love with me like I'm in love with you?"

Ron sniggered and leered at her comically. "I might have Black blood in me from my grandma, but I assure you there's nothing BROTHERLY about the way I feel about you."

"Good to know," she said lightly, biting her lip and looking up at him through her lashes. "But you're still dreadful and I don't know what to do with you at all."

"It's all part of my charm," he said as they reached the end of the orchard boundary and turned around to head back to The Burrow.

"Well, save it for Wednesday," she advised him, "you'll need it for Madam Malkin."

"Can I just come with you and skip the shopping part?" He asked, wrinkling his nose. "My robes are fine."

"They're a bit short, Ron. You've grown a bit since you got them you know."

"Yeah, but ..." he mumbled something she couldn't quite catch.

"But?" She pulled them both to a stop. "What was that?"

"Fred and George bought them for me."

"Oh." She hugged him impulsively. "We'll just get Madam Malkin to lengthen them."

"OK." Ron smiled. "I can live with that."

They started walking again and were silent for several moments.

"Are you coming to the shop again tomorrow after work?" Ron asked in a strangely hushed tone.

"Of course," Hermione assured him as they came into sight of The Burrow.

They both hesitated before crossing into the garden.

"Shall we sit for a while?" said Hermione.

"Yeah. Yeah, let's sit for a while," Ron agreed quickly and led her over to their favourite flat rock by the pond.

They didn't speak again until she was settled comfortably on his lap and they had their arms wrapped around each other.

"I should probably kiss you now, before someone interrupts," Ron grinned into her neck.

"Better hurry up," Hermione agreed, sinking her fingers in his hair, "it has to have been at least half an hour since we've seen anyone."

"That must be some sort of record, I'll have to call Guinness," Harry said in a dry tone from the other side of the pond.

"Oh, piss off Potter!" Ron growled while Hermione shook with suppress mirth.

"Better me than your Mum, mate," Harry told him, "she was going to come out to get eggs for tomorrow morning."

"Fair point," Ron conceded. "Are you going to stand there all night or can I snog my girlfriend?"

"Snog away," Harry laughed, "but don't take too long, or she'll be out to pick the tomatoes or something."


	22. Calm

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

Shortest chapter EVER.

The next one up is going to be fairly long. I really want to get it right, so there's going to be some research involved and it's going to be a while before it's posted.

Thanks for the reviews!

* * *

Calm

* * *

"Who the bloody hell is Guinness, anyway?" Ron grumbled as they made their way back toward the house. "And why would Harry want to call him?"

Hermione couldn't help giggling. "He was talking about The Guinness Book of Records; it's about human achievement and extremes of the natural world."

"HAH. That's funny. Oh, sod them all ..." Ron leaned forward and pressed his mouth resolutely over hers, despite the fact that they were only about four feet away from the door.

It felt to Hermione as if he was pouring everything he could into the kiss, although only their lips and hands were touching. She freed one hand and bought it to the nape of his neck, sinking her fingers into his hair ... and felt him mirror her action, as her hair came loose from its severely tight bun.

"That's better." He whispered against her cheek, pulling her away from the house and into the shadows.


	23. 19 June 1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

This is the first bit of what should be a much longer chapter – which I'm still writing. Unfortunately the internet will be unavailable from Sunday, for a week and a half, so I'm going to post this little bit for now. The rest will come in a couple of weeks. Cheers. Also, there will be a good lot of Ron and Hermione. :-D

I've taken some liberties with this, but such is life.

Thanks a tonne for the reviews, I really do appreciate the encouragement!

* * *

19 June 1998

* * *

He really wasn't entirely convinced he deserved to be here.

The oaths he would be taking in a few short hours weighed heavily on him. His world would be looking to him for leadership, but was he really up for the job?

Truth be told, did he want it?

Not really.

He'd spent his entire working life in the Auror office and he liked it that way.

Well, he was here now.

Unbidden, a mental image of Mad-Eye floated before him.

_Shake 'em up, boy!_

Sighing deeply, he sat heavily on the edge of the newly installed fountain in the middle of the Atrium.

_Merlin but we've gone though a few of these damn things in the last few years._

He hoped this one would be around for a good long while.

"I like this one," a soft voice said from the other side of the fountain, "much better than the last two."

"You're in early, Arthur," Kingsley turned to smile at his old friend, "pull up some wall."

"Thought I'd beat the rush," Arthur grinned, "and I wanted to get a good look at this, now that it's finally in."

Kingsley watched him pull of his glasses and polish them with the corner of his robes. "He's right there, just near the bottom ... they all are."

"Really?" Arthur replaced his glasses and turned to study the base of the obelisk with a sad smile. "So he is ..." he leaned forward a little, "they all are."

"Wish they weren't though."

"You and me both, Kingsley, you and me both." Arthur shrugged philosophically and eyed him suspiciously. "If I'm early, what does that make you? Taken to sleeping here, have you?"

"Think you're funny, don't you, Weasel?" Kinglsey chuckled. "I woke up early and couldn't see much point in sitting around at home when I could do it here."

"Something on your mind?" Arthur probed.

"Am I really cut out for politics?" Kingsley asked bluntly. "This isn't where I imagined myself to be."

Arthur was silent for several minutes, clearly thinking the question over. "Do you remember when we were young?"

"Only faintly," Kinglsey chuckled self-depreciatingly.

"Who's funny now, Shackles?" Arthur mocked. "Really though. Do you remember when we were going to change the world?"

Kingsley snorted through his nose. "I remember."

"So?" Arthur nudged him gently with his elbow. "Do it."

"Politics though? That was more Winston's thing. He was the Shacklebolt everyone expected to see in power."

"True." Arthur nodded and glanced back at the monument behind him. "Is he there?"

Kingsley nodded silently.

"And you're here," Arthur pointed out, "who else is going to do it?"

"You could," said Kinglsey and then laughed at Arthur's loud guffaw.

"Perish the thought." Arthur shook his head, but sobered immediately. "Did you ever read that damn Dumbledore biography Skeeter wrote?"

"I did," Kingsley confirmed, "and a load of old cobblers it was too."

"Not all of it," Arthur disagreed. "Not the parts about Grindelwald."

"Really?"

"Really. Harry said that's why Dumbledore refused the post of Minister – felt he couldn't trust himself with power."

"Well I'll be."

"Came as a bit of a surprise to me," Arthur admitted, "but think about how different things would have been, if Dumbledore had trusted himself to take power."

"Wow."

"Wow?" Arthur shot Kingsley a derisive look. "You sound like Ginny."

"Yes, well. I may possibly have picked that up from her." Kingsley rolled his eyes and chuckled. "You're right though. Things would be very different. What's your point?"

"Don't make the same mistake," said Arthur baldly. "This is a prime opportunity for you to take our world by the throat and make a real change. Don't waste it."

"Point taken," Kinglsey glanced sideways at Arthur, a sly look in his eye, "I was going to give you Magical Law Enforcement." He laughed at the horrified look on Arthurs face. "But I decided you'd much prefer Muggle Relations."

"Thank Merlin for that," Arthur laughed too, "you know they're going to say its favouritism."

"And?" Kingsley shrugged. "Do you care?"

"Not really," said Arthur.

"And will you do the job to the best of your ability?"

"Of course I will!" Arthur looked mildly affronted.

"So there you go." Kingsley nodded firmly. "They can put it in their pipes and smoke it."

"Right, right." Arthur suppressed a smile. "And you don't think you're up for the job? Please ..."

"Now! On to far more important matters!" Kingsley rubbed his hands together. "What do you know about cricket, Weasel?"

"Not a lot," Arthur looked curious, "why?"

"Because England are playing South Africa up in Manchester, the week after next," Kingsley slapped Arthur's shoulder, "are you coming with me to watch?"

"Cricket? With muggles? Muggle sport?" Arthur's eyes lit up. "If Molly can do without me, of course I'll come!"

"We'll call it research for Muggle Relations," Kingsley told him, "you'll be duty bound to go."

"Oh, very good, Shackles, very good." Arthur grinned wildly. "Very good indeed."

*

The most amazing night of his life and he'd never be able to tell a soul about it.

Typical.

He knew he shouldn't be here at all, it was highly irregular, but when he'd been asked to come he'd jumped at the chance; because after months in Kingsley Shacklebolt's company, he considered the man a friend. A very odd and mysterious friend, yes, but a friend none-the-less.

He'd surprised himself greatly by being somewhat worried the night Kingsley had disappeared from his office with a loud crack. They'd been sharing a cup of tea and talking over the next morning's schedule when the ugly little portrait in the corner of his office had suddenly come to life. Extremely agitated life at that.

_Hogwarts is threatened by He Who Must Not Be Named! Dumbledore's Army is preparing for battle and The Order of the Phoenix must take action! Hogwarts is threatened by He Who Must Not Be Named! _

"It's happening," Kingsley's face was ashen. "I have to go." He glanced around the room quickly and pointed his wand at the fire-place, sending a jet of purple light directly at it. "I've sealed it," he explained, "go home, right now, and don't leave unless it's absolutely necessary. Don't come back here until you've heard from me, do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand." He nodded, highly concerned. Kingsley was nigh-on unflappable, as a rule, so this was alarming to say the least. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to fight," Kingsley said quietly. "If he's going to attack Hogwarts, something must have happened, or be about to happen. Dumbledore's Army wouldn't call for The Order without good reason."

"Dumbledore's Army?"

"School kids and teenagers, the lot of them," Kingsley laughed mirthlessly. "I'll explain it all later." He waved his wand over the desk. "Consider all of your appointments for tomorrow cancelled, if anyone calls, you're suffering from influenza."

"Good luck."

So yes, he'd been worried. He'd been particularly worried when no word had come from Kingsley the next morning, nor the next afternoon.

He felt completely impotent!

A war was raging, people were doubtless dying, and he had no indication of how things were shaping up. What if he hadn't heard from Kingsley by Monday morning? He had to go back into work at some point; he had a country to run!

By evening he'd been well into a controlled sort of panic, until an owl had swooped down his dining room chimney and dropped a rolled up piece of parchment on his lap. Lucky he'd been alone really, because he couldn't think how he would possibly have explained that one away.

**Voldemort has been defeated. England is safe. I like a dash of brandy in my tea. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.**

_I'll present you with the finest brandy I can lay my hands on. _

Kingsley had insisted on a password of sorts, many months previously, talking about something called polyjuice potion. He'd though the idea foolish, at first, but had later seen the stuff in action – Kingsley had, at one point, broken a taboo of some sort and had to make a run for it. It had come as a great shock to watch Kingsley's first transformation into a _completely different person_ so as to continue protecting him.

So here he was, weeks later, deep under London as he knew it.

In the Ministry of Magic.

A Muggle, as he was called in the magical world, in the Ministry of Magic!

It really was rather impressive, and the Atrium was beautifully proportioned.

Kingsley had proudly shown him the Monument To The Fallen; an imposingly elegant obelisk rising from a fountain filled with dancing water. On closer inspection he saw that the water was coming from the beaks of four exquisitely crafted stone birds, and he had been pleased to see that the entire monument was made from Welsh Blue Pennant ... although it was so highly polished it might easily had been mistaken for the finest Italian marble. He'd been extremely surprised when Kingsley explained that the birds at the base of the obelisk were accurate renderings of one particular phoenix – amusingly named Fawkes - and that yes, they did exist.

After taking a tour, they had retired to Kingsley's private office for a glass of what Kinglsey called "Firewhiskey". Unusual stuff, it was. Well named. Burned like a fury on the way down, and strong as lye, but enjoyable regardless. They'd been on their second glass when the handsome fireplace had roared into life with the green flames.

So many people that he knew he'd never keep the names straight; but even so, he'd spent a pleasant hour socialising with Kingsley's closest friends. He'd met an actual Dragon Keeper! And a curse breaker who had been attacked by a Werewolf! Lovely chaps, both of them.

And now he watched on with hundreds of Britain's magical folk as Kingsley took the oaths of office, kneeling before a tiny little man with fluffy white hair and a squeaky little voice.

"Do you, Kinglsey Julius Shacklebolt, solemnly and sincerely declare that you will truly and faithfully, to the best of your skill and knowledge, execute the powers and trust reposed in you as Minister of Magic?"

"I swear it."

The little man waved his wand and a fine white mist swirled around Kingsley.

"Do you, Kingsley Julius Shacklebolt, solemnly and sincerely declare that you will govern the magical peoples of England, Scotland, Northern Ireland, Ireland, Wales and all other protectorates of the realm?"

"I swear it."

The little man waved his wand again, and this time a shower of golden sparks floated through the air.

"Will you to the utmost of your power maintain the Laws of Magic, and will you to the utmost of your power protect both Magical and Non-Magical people alike from harm."

"I swear it."

This time Kinglsey was surrounded by shimmering silver light.

"I present to you all The Minister of Magic. Kingsley Julius Shacklebolt.


	24. Pride

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Pride

* * *

Apparently it comes before a fall.

So Aunt Muriel always liked to remind everyone, with monotonous regularity. Particularly after one of the Weasley's had achieved something noteworthy.

But that was only half of it.

Years of being Harry Potter's best mate; of watching the Wizarding World revere and revile him, depending on the current fashion - and Harry was one of the most humble blokes around - well, that had taught Ron Weasley at least one thing.

The fall would come, whether you were proud or not.

So why not?

OK, so not the stupid sort of pride where someone acted better than everyone around them because of something they personally had nothing to do with; like the circumstances of their birth, or their blood status, or how much money their great-grandfather had made in black-market potion dealing.

Someone good with words, someone like Hermione, would say that kind of pride wasn't pride at all. She'd say that was arrogance – and she'd be right.

But the proper kind of pride. Being proud of the people around you – being proud of yourself, of the things you had done to make a better world.

Bugger it.

Why the hell not?

Right now, Ron was proud of his dad and the speech he was giving about The Order of Merlin. It was bound to put some backs up with the more traditional types in the crowd ... but too bad really, it was all true.

The Order of Merlin WAS originally a society, founded my Merlin himself, devoted to the protection of those without magic powers. They'd learnt it in History of Magic – it said so in the notes he'd borrowed from Hermione when they'd been revising for the OWL's, and she generally managed to listen through Binns' monotonous droning.

No one DID know for sure when it changed from being a society to an award ... and his dad was completely right when he said that the award had been corrupted in recent years. If someone like Pollux Black could get one, well ... that said everything, didn't it?

*

"This Monument serves as a reminder of our bitter victory," Arthur concluded quietly. "It remembers our children, our parents, our siblings, our family and our friends. It tells of witches and wizards, muggles, house elves and goblins."

"All of these were victims of Voldemort over the last 50 years, but more than that, they were victims of arrogance and the idea that magical folk are superior to all others. Some of these fallen chose to fight that idea, and some were given no choice but to fight, and others still were innocent bystanders. To a one, I suspect they would have preferred to be with us today."

The long silence, as he made his way back to his seat, was finally broken by Augusta Longbottom. "Hear! Hear! Well said, Arthur!"

Then came applause, quiet at first, but quickly gaining in momentum as Kingsley nodded in approval.


	25. Fawkes

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Fawkes

* * *

"Thank you, Arthur," said Kingsley when all was silent again. "When I asked you to make a speech, that wasn't quite what I was expecting; but it none-the-less ties in with my next order of business."

"It is with a great sense of duty that I accept the responsibility of Minister of Magic. I will endeavour to justify, in every action, the trust you have placed in me. We find ourselves coming from a period of darkness and in the coming weeks I will form a new Ministry with new priorities to meet the challenges ahead.

"Arthur mentioned arrogance, and I would like to expand upon that." Kinglsey cleared his throat. "Some of us here tonight, those of us over a certain age, have been here before. In 1981 we celebrated the apparent defeat of Voldemort and mourned our family and friends. We put the pieces of our world back together and hoped that it would never happen again.

"Yet here we are, less than two decades later. As a community, we have to look at why this has happened." Kinglsey looked over the crowd slowly and let his words sink in.

"There never was a war in our history easier to avert by judicious action than that which has recently desolated our community. Albus Dumbledore saw it all coming. He warned our leaders and rather than face the uncomfortable truth, our leaders and the press preferred to run a smear campaign painting Harry Potter as a delusional liar and Albus Dumbledore as a power-hungry manipulator.

"Even when The Ministry could no longer deny the return of Voldemort, it continued to be mired with pointless action and within 12 short months was under the control of Voldemort himself." Kingsley waited for the murmurs of the crowd to cease before continuing on. "We must ask ourselves, how was this allowed to happen?"

"Less than a fortnight ago two valued members of our community were called before the Wizengamot, in regard to offences committed under the Muggleborn Registration Act and Educational Decree Number 33; charges put forward by the recently removed head of the Wizengamot, who was also a high-ranked official in the Ministry of Magic. The crimes of these two important members of the community? Being instrumental in Harry Potter's defeat of Voldemort. I am, of course, speaking of Miss Hermione Granger and Mr Ronald Weasley.

"Arthur mentioned arrogance, and I am sad to say that I agree. Lunatics are born into every generation, and until the Wizarding World takes a long hard look at itself and its attitudes, there would always be someone to follow those lunatics. We must endeavour to not let this happen again. This can only be achieved by letting go of the idea that the Wizarding community is superior to all others. I am not foolish enough to believe that this will happen overnight, not at all, but I do hold hope for the future.

"While I have spoken about the arrogance and the corruption of some, we must not forget that we won this war because many in our world were willing to fight against the dark forces. My first act as the official Minister of Magic is to introduce two new awards, in addition to the Orders of Merlin. The Fawkes Medal and the Fawkes Cross.

"The Fawkes Medal is awarded to all who participated in and survived the Battle of Hogwarts, to recognise their bravery and strength of character in the face of overwhelming adversity and the threat of torture and death. The Fawkes Cross is a posthumous award for those who lost their lives as a result of defying Voldemort and his followers - not just in this war, but the last."

There were gasps and cries of shock as a golden medallion, engraved with a phoenix and attached to a purple ribbon, appeared pinned to the robes of most of the crowd - several people also found themselves with a golden cross on a black ribbon, representing a lost loved one.

"Let us hope we will never have to make use of the Fawkes awards again."

Kingsley waited for the crowd to examine the awards for several seconds before speaking again. "Never in the history of the Ministry of Magic has the Order of Merlin been awarded to so many individuals at any one time, and in this instance I am proud to say that the Order of Merlin is being awarded under its true meaning and intent."

"The Order of the Phoenix was established by Albus Dumbledore during the first war against Voldemort, and reinstituted in 1995, to fight the dark forces. The members of The Order of the Phoenix risked their lives to protect the magical community and in the second war also risked the wrath of the Ministry of Magic. To the members of The Order of the Phoenix, both living and not; I award the Order of Merlin, second class."

"Dumbledore's Army was the brainchild of Hermione Granger and formed in 1995 by Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley to counteract the interference of the Ministry of Magic at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In 1997 Dumbledore's Army was reformed by Neville Longbottom, Ginevra Weasley and Luna Lovegood. To all members of Dumbledore's Army I award The Order of Merlin, second class; for their efforts to destabilize the regime when Hogwarts was under the control of Voldemort's Death Eaters, and great risk to their personal safety, and their decisive action on the night of the battle."

"Finally, if I may take a little more of your time, it is time to recognise the three people without whom all of this would not be possible. To Mr Harry Potter; who was forced into a situation many of us here would run from, I award The Order of Merlin, first class. While the defeat of Voldemort was ultimately Harry's doing, he could not have done so without Mr Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger. They had the choice to walk away, but chose instead to follow Harry into hiding and possible death. For them both; The Order of Merlin, first class."

* * *

_Odd place to end the chapter, I suppose. :-)_

_Yes, we WILL have some more Ron and Hermione soon. I'm typing right now!_

_Thanks for all the reviews so far, awesome stuff, really!  
_


	26. Sundries

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Sundries

* * *

"George," Arthur said quietly, unpinning the Fawkes Cross from his robes and handing it to his son, "they gave this to the wrong person."

"Are you sure?" George ran a finger over the engraving – _Fred Weasley, 01/04/1978 – 02/05/1998, Your Laughter Will Always Be With Us – _and looked up at his father.

"It belongs to you," Arthur nodded as he watched George pin it next to his own awards.

"Thanks, Dad." He blinked frantically and then reached over to take his father in an impulsive, firm hug. "Come on now, let's get some food."

"In a minute," Arthur agreed, and nodded toward Harry, Ron and Hermione, who were in the middle of a chattering group and looking decidedly uncomfortable. "I think they might need some help."

"Ah!" George's eyes lit up. "A rescue mission!" He glanced around the room and spotted his other brothers, "I think we'll need some backup ..." he pointed out Neville, Ginny and Luna who looked to be in a similar situation.

"I'll marshal the troupes," Arthur chuckled.

*

"Make way, make way!" Percy Weasley put on his most official tone as he and Bill broke through the crowd surrounding his sister and her friends. "Give them some space, please." Miraculously it seemed to work.

"Thanks, Percy," Ginny grinned breathlessly. "Have you seen Harry?"

"George and Charlie are attending to them as we speak." He took her hand and beckoned for Neville and Luna to follow. "We're at Kinglsey's table."

"I have to find Gran," said Neville promptly.

"She's already there," Percy told him and then smiled at Luna, "so is Xenophilius."

*

Xeno Lovegood felt extraordinarily uncomfortable, seated at the Minister of Magic's dinner table ... just a few seats away from Harry Potter.

Usually the gregarious type; he was currently bent over his soup, far too embarrassed to respond to Andromeda Tonks' attempt to draw him into conversation.

Ever tactful, Andromeda graciously decided to leave him to his thoughts and turn her attention to Luna, starting a conversation about the upcoming Hogwarts school year.

Xeno sighed with relief.

"Oh yes, I am rather looking forward to it," said Luna, "although I dare say it will be considerably less exciting than the last year."

"Luna, I hardly think ..." Xeno mumbled after he recovered from choking on his soup.

On Luna's other side, George Weasley's voice shook with barely suppressed laughter. "I don't know about anyone else, but I wouldn't say no to a nice, boring, safe couple of years."

"As long as it doesn't involve camping," Hermione Granger sniggered, "I'm all for it."

Xeno stared at Hermione, startled at her dry tone, and saw her flanked by George and Ronald Weasley.

"I don't deserve to be here," he mumbled as he pulled his serviette from his collar and threw it on his table, unable to tear his eyes away from Ronald and Hermione.

*

"I don't deserve to be here."

Ron more sensed the words than heard them, and seemed to be the only one at the table to have done so. Until recently, very recently, Ron might have agreed with him ... but looking at the man now, he wasn't so sure.

Losing Fred was hard. Harder than he had ever thought losing a loved one could be, and the idea of losing Hermione still made his blood run cold.

Xeno had lost his wife and had come very close to losing his only child as well.

He looked from Xeno to Hermione. Seated close beside him, chatting happily with Luna and Andromeda; beautiful in floating sunset coloured robes – orange, he'd thought, but Ginny assured him they were definitely sunset, couldn't he see the way they were shot with purple?

Alive and well.

What if she hadn't made it through?

What if they had a family one day in the future and then she was taken from him?

Reflexively he hitched his chair even closer to hers.

What if, having lost her, he found himself about to lose their child?

*

Xeno started violently at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder and stared up at the face of Ronald Weasley.

"I was wondering if we might have a word?" Ronald said quietly.

"I ... well ..." Xeno glanced around the table quickly, unsure, "certainly."

"We'll go have a look at the monument, yeah?"

"As you wish," Xeno agreed.

*

"Nice, isn't it?" Ronald said conversationally as they both stared up at the obelisk.

"For what it is, yes." Xeno agreed, eyeing the young man warily. "Very handsome."

"I was really mad at you, you know," Ronald said baldly.

"Indeed." Xeno coloured slightly. "My behaviour was indefensible."

"I said was," Ronald pointed out, as he turned to look Xeno in the eye. "I don't know about Harry and Hermione, but I would have done the same thing."

"Thank you for saying so," Xeno said quietly, and then added, "could you ..." he flushed and stared down at his feet, "would it be possible if you ..."

"If I could what?"

"Luna is ashamed of me," Xeno mumbled.

"Oh. Did she say that?"

"No, but I know ..."

"I'll talk to her," Ronald nodded and then grinned slightly. "I owe her one anyway."

*

"Where did you run off to?" Hermione asked Ron in an undertone when he returned to their table with a considerably happier looking Mr Lovegood.

"Just had a chat with Xeno," Ron murmured.

She looked over at Mr Lovegood, who was now laughing with Andromeda and George. "Must have been a good talk," she observed, "care to fill me in?"

"Later," Ron smiled, taking her hand and linking their fingers together, "it's nothing to worry about. What have I missed?"

"Not a lot, dinner will be along soon. You're having welsh lamb with teifi sauce and baked potatoes, because you weren't here to order it."

"Teifi?" Ron looked slightly suspicious. "Isn't that nettle cheese?"

"Well yes, but ... you'll enjoy it, I promise." Hermione grinned at his look.

Ron shrugged. "If you say so. What are YOU having?"

"Swper Scadan," she told him promptly, "so if you don't like yours, we can swap."

"Feeling a bit Welsh today, are we?" Ron laughed.

"Something like that," Hermione agreed lightly, squeezing his hand and leaning past him to talk to Harry.

* * *

_Another odd spot to leave it, yes? _

_Hermione and Ron seem to be getting along well lately, aren't they? Not bickering at all._

_Not like them at all. LOL. _

_Actually, I disagree with that; I think a lot of bickering had to do with unresolved romantic feelings and hurt feelings, and **both** of them being immature brats. IMHO the war would have matured them ... oh, and they're in the honeymoon period. :-P_

_More coming soon. _

_(As in the next couple of days ... the REAL next couple of days, not the "I'll say that, but really have no clue" couple of days.)  
_


	27. Will You?

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Will You?

* * *

"Will you?" Ron stood quickly and held his hand out to Hermione as the first strains of music started.

"Yes, I think I will," Hermione smiled gently and took his hand, allowing him to lead her away from the table.

"Well will you look at that!" Harry laughed.

"He's got the right idea though," Ginny grinned and jumped up. "Shall we, Mr Potter?"

"I can hardly say no, can I Miss Weasley?"

"It looks like it's just you and me mate," Charlie chuckled as he and George watched the rest of the table pair off and join the dancers. "Drink?"

"What?" George took on an offended stance. "Am I not good enough for you to dance with then? I'm wounded, big brother, wounded!"

*

"Having a good time?" Ron asked, resting his right hand on Hermione's hip and smiling down at her.

"Surprisingly good," Hermione confirmed as they started a slow waltz. "I was talking to Professor McGonagall just before pudding."

"I noticed," Ron nodded a greeting to Madam Malkin and then let his gaze return to Hermione. "Business or pleasure?"

"You sound like George." Hermione smiled.

"Merlin forbid." Ron smiled too.

Hermione's expression faltered. "Business."

"Ah. I thought so." Ron sighed and spun her around under his arm, pulling her closer when they came together again. "And?"

"You were right," said Hermione, "there's a fund."

Ron dropped his hands to her waist, lifted her into the air and let her down gently again. "Are you going?"

"I don't know."

*

"So, what's up with Angelina and Lee?" Charlie asked bluntly, watching George carefully.

"What do you mean?"

"You lot were as thick as thieves."

George scowled slightly and absently ran his fingers over the Fawkes Cross pinned to the breast of his robes. "I thought so too. Obviously I was wrong."

Charlie gestured over his shoulder with a flick of his head. "They're just over there. Why don't you go talk to them?"

"And say what?" George scoffed. "Long time, no see. Pity you missed the funeral?"

Charlie grimaced. "Not quite the ice-breaker I had in mind."

*

"So." Arthur grinned at Kingsley as each juggled glasses of champagne. "You and Andromeda are getting along."

Kingsley stopped in his tracks to stare at Arthur askance.

"What?" Arthur chuckled. "It was just an observation. You're enjoying each other's company, that's all."

"That IS all," Kingsley frowned, "we're two friends enjoying each other's company."

"That's what I said." Arthur smirked. "Young Teddy's a nice little chap, isn't he?"

"Arthur ..." Kingsley's tone held a definite tone of warning.

"I'm just saying."

"You're worse than Molly ..." Kinglsey grumbled.

"Doubtful," Arthur chortled. "You have no idea."

"No, really. It's too soon." Kinglsey glanced over at the table, where Molly and Andromeda were fussing over Teddy. "Ted's hardly cold in the ground. Just ... drop it, right?"

"Kingsley," said Arthur, suddenly serious, "Ted was our friend, a good friend and good man. Andromeda is our friend too, and right now she's hurting, she needs friends more than she ever did before."

"I know that," Kingsley nodded. "What's your point?"

"Ted wouldn't want to see her shut away on her own, that's all I'm saying."

"Sure it is," Kingsley snorted.

"OK, maybe not," Arthur admitted. "But time goes by quickly, and before you know it, it will be a year from now, and then two years."

"Point taken," the corners of Kinglsey's mouth twitched.

*

"Tell me about you and Mr Lovegood," said Hermione as she and Ron left the dance floor for something to drink.

"Not much to tell, really," Ron shrugged. "He didn't look really happy over soup, and I thought I heard him say that he didn't deserve to be here."

"Oh." Hermione accepted the glass of white wine Ron handed her and took a sip. "I was wondering why he was so quiet."

"Yeah." Ron draped his arm around her back, gently stroking the fabric of her robes. "I really like this," he dropped his voice to a whisper, "you look gorgeous, have I said that yet?"

"At least five times," she laughed, "I'm glad you like it ... but don't change the subject."

"What subject?" Ron asked vaguely, tugging experimentally at a long, curled, tendril of hair at her temple and watching it spring back into place. "I love your hair; it's the colour of chocolate."

"Ron," Hermione pursed her lips, trying hard not to smile. "Mr Lovegood, what did you say to him? He looked much happier when you came back."

"Oh, that," Ron shrugged. "It's ... a bit ... yeah. I just told him that I wasn't angry at him or anything."

"Aren't you?" Hermione studied him over her glass, taking in his flushed cheeks and neck, suddenly very curious. "Why not?"

"It's a bit soppy," he admitted, "and maybe a bit scary too." He bit his lip and gazed down at her, absently tucking a wayward curl behind her ear. "If I tell you, you'll probably run away screaming."

"Try me," she suggested, fascinated by the way his eyes flickered between uncertainty and something she couldn't quite define. "I'm not that easy to scare these days."

"True that," he agreed, "none of us are, I suppose?" He pressed his lips to her temple and hugged her to him. "I just got to thinking, you know? What if we ... uh ... what if we, well," he blushed hard, "what if we got married and had a child? What if something happened and I lost you somehow, you know? I don't think I could stand it ..."

Hermione put her glass down carefully before taking his free hand in hers and kissing the palm. "You know I feel the same way about you, but why think things like that?"

"It just came to me," he explained, "I suppose it made me understand him better. His wife is dead, you know? And I was thinking what if I was him? What if YOU were gone, and then someone was going to take our child from me to? What would I have done?"

"Oh, Ron," she whispered and wrapped her arms around him. "It's things like this that make me love you, did you know that?"

"And here I was thinking it was the dashing Weasley good looks," he quipped, squeezing her shoulder.

"Well, that too," she giggled, but then sobered immediately. "It's also things like this that make it so hard for me to decide whether I'll go back to Hogwarts or not this year."

"I'm sorry," he said, quite sincere. "I don't mean to make it harder."

"That's perfectly alright," she told him, "I like it when you disclose the hidden parts of yourself."

"Hidden parts?" Ron chuckled. "I don't think there are any, not from you."

"Well," she grinned up at him, "be sure to keep it that way."

"I don't think I could stop it, even if I wanted too," he admitted. "Now, I have an idea!"

"What's that?"

"Tomorrow we can maybe go for a walk to the village or something, and have a talk or whatever; but let's just forget everything for tonight, yeah?"

"Down by the river?" Hermione asked.

"If you like." He waggled his brows at her comically.

"And dancing tonight?"

"Oh yeah, lots of dancing. Any excuse to be this close in public ..."

* * *

_Quick and dirty! _

_OK, not so dirty, but still quick._

_I can't believe people are still reading this! So much patience!_

_(So good for my ego! LOL)_

_Seriously though, thanks for sticking with me ... I know the patchy updates can be frustrating; and this is taking me where it wants to go, not the other way around ... so I DO appreciate the reviews and I'm glad you're enjoying it.  
_

_Full disclosure, the next chapter will earn its M rating ... and no, it's NOT Molly and Arthur. :-P  
_


	28. Flying

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Flying

(Grab a cup of tea or something!)

* * *

5:01 am, Saturday morning.

Hermione would have liked to go back to sleep; but Crookshanks was making that impossible, with his agitated tail thumping on the window sill and his throaty growls directed at whatever it was outside he was so desperate to catch.

Giving it up as a bad job, she turned onto her back and watched the world outside her window lighten. The chickens were already scratching around and somewhere off in the distance a dog was barking.

Her eyes were just drifting shut again when a strident _tew tew-tew _just outside the window made Crookshanks hiss in irritation.

_Greenshank. _She thought automatically. _Must be on its way home._

Her eyes popped open. _I miss you, Dad. You and your birding books. It used to drive Mum mad, remember? _

Downstairs a door slammed, and Mrs Weasley uttered "Damn" quite audibly.

Suddenly she felt the need for company. _I'll see if Mrs Weasley needs help with anything._

*

"Good morning dear, you're up early," Mrs Weasley was sitting at the scrubbed table with a mug of tea and a piece of toast. "I hope I didn't wake you, the door got away from me in the breeze."

"Morning," Hermione suppressed a yawn and opened the back door for Crookshanks, who immediately shot through without a backward glance. "No, I was already up. That one," she nodded toward the garden, "woke me up with his antics, I pity the gnomes today."

"I don't," Mrs Weasley smirked, "they enjoy it just as much as he does. I'll get you a cup of tea and some toast, dear."

"No, no, stay there," Hermione said quickly. "I'll do it."

They sat, drinking their tea and crunching their toast, until Mrs Weasley broke the comfortable silence. "You're looking a bit melancholy this morning, is everything alright?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm fine. I think I heard a greenshank earlier, it just got me thinking."

Mrs Weasley reached out and patted her hand. "About Mum and Dad?"

"Yes." Hermione looked surprised. "How did ..."

"They came down here for a long weekend," Mrs Weasley explained, "Robert was rather enthusiastic about the birdlife."

"I didn't know."

"No, it was while you and Ronald weren't getting along," Mrs Weasley smiled gently. "We all thought it best to let you work it out amongst yourselves."

Hermione couldn't help chuckling. "And they never breathed a word. What did you do?"

"I gather Arthur and Robert spent most of their time in the shed, or rambling about on Dartmoor," Mrs Weasley laughed outright at that. "Helen and I went into Padstow on the Friday, Cardiff on the Saturday and Cardigan on the Sunday. On the Monday we rested."

"Did Mum take you shopping?" Hermione couldn't help smiling. "You would have needed the rest day."

"Yes, we did." Mrs Weasley smiled too. "We went shopping and sight-seeing. I know Padstow like the back of my hand, but I've not seen much of Wales. We had a very nice time together." She gave a regretful sigh and patted Hermione's arm again. "Such lovely people, you must miss them terribly."

Hermione just nodded.

"They're proud of you, you know." Mrs Weasley said firmly.

"I hope so," Hermione whispered.

"I know so, dear. But that's enough of this, or we'll both end up being weepy." Mrs Weasley drained the tea from her mug and set it down with a thump. "Now, what do you have planned for the day?"

Grateful for the change of subject, Hermione pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Ron and I were planning on a walk, if there's nothing you'd like done around here first."

*

Hermione didn't bother trying to smother the grin taking over her face as she watched Ron being propelled into the kitchen, fully dressed but clearly not fully awake.

"Now, have a piece of toast dear," Mrs Weasley shoved a piece into his hand as he sat down with a heavy thud, "and some tea", a steaming mug landed in front of him. "Maybe a biscuit too."

"Do I even want to know what's going on?" He grumbled around his toast.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Ron," Mrs Weasley reprimanded automatically. "You and Hermione are going out for the day." She turned to Hermione. "Have you got everything dear?"

"Yes, Mrs Weasley, I think so."

"The maps? The broom? Are you quite sure?"

"I'm sure." Hermione laughed.

"A nice warm jumper?"

"Right here," Hermione put her hand on the woolly jumper draped over her recently vacated chair.

"Jumper?" Ron echoed, rubbing his face and rumpling his hair in the process. "Why do we need jumpers? It's going to be 26 today, I checked last night."

"It'll be cooler there," Mrs Weasley told him, hovering by his elbow – clearly wanting to chivvy him along, but thinking better of it.

"Where are we going?"

"Becky Falls Estate and the surrounding area," Hermione's smile broadened, "I've always wanted to see it."

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but decided to instead finish his tea. "OK."

*

"Bet you're glad of the jumper now," Hermione teased as they stood beside a lonely tor, the wind tugging at their clothes and whipping their hair around their faces.

"Where the bloody hell are we?" Ron frowned curiously and looked around, seeing nothing but green and brown and slabs of granite for miles in each direction. "Somewhere on Dartmoor?"

Hermione nodded enthusiastically. "Isn't it great?"

"Um, sure?"

Hermione sat down abruptly and snapped open her black handbag, rummaging through it and pulling out three thick, carefully wrapped, sandwiches. "Here," she waved them in his general direction. "Breakfast."

"Thanks." He settled beside her, watching curiously as she pulled out a great thermos and set it before them. "Is that the purple bag?"

"Yes. I couldn't stand the sight of it, to be perfectly honest; but it was a really good bit of spell work so I couldn't bear to part with it either. I transfigured it instead."

"Fair enough." Ron unwrapped the first sandwich and took a great bite, sighing happily as he did so. "Love bacon."

"I noticed." Hermione smirked as she poured two cups of tea.

"Aren't you eating?" Ron frowned.

"I've already had breakfast." She told him cheerfully. "I've been up since 5."

"Which explains why we're here before 7.30, but not why we're here," Ron said, giving in to a jaw-cracking yawn. "Not that I'm complaining," he added, "just curious."

"It's a bit silly."

"I doubt it," Ron frowned again and put down his half eaten sandwich. "Why have you been up since 5? Why did Mum drag me out of bed at 7 o'clock on a Saturday morning? And why are we out here in the middle of nowhere?"

Hermione bit her lip and stared out to the horizon. "We can go back if you like," she said in a tight voice.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to come out like that, I'm still half asleep. I like this sort of stuff," he gestured at the view. "I'm here with you, even better," he tugged at the sleeve of her jumper playfully, "and we were going to go off on our own today anyway, so I'm really NOT complaining. I'm just trying to catch up ... and you're not acting quite like yourself. What's bothering you?"

"Where do I even start?" she snorted.

"Why were you up at 5?"

"Crookshanks woke me up," she said immediately, "with his thumping and growling. I was just getting back to sleep when he took exception to a bird quite close to the window ... it reminded me of Dad."

"Ohhh." He put his arm around her and rubbed her shoulders. "I'm sorry."

"No, it was OK actually." She smiled at him. "I can think of them without getting too upset, now. They're all good memories. But I _was _feeling a bit ... a bit lonely, I suppose."

"Why didn't you come in to me? I'd rather have been woken up than have you being lonely."

"I heard your Mum up," she explained, "and I wanted something to keep me busy, so I thought I'd see if she needed any help. Are you going to finish that?"

"What? Oh, the sandwich! Do you want it?" He passed it over quickly.

"Just a bite," she took one and handed it back.

"So you went downstairs to Mum ..." Ron prompted before taking a bite himself.

"Oh. Yeah. We were just having a chat and I told her about the bird, it was a greenshank by the way, and it turns out that Mum and Dad spent a long weekend at The Burrow once. Did you know?"

"Did they really?" Ron grinned, "I had no idea. How did you get from the bird to them staying over?"

"Dad was a bird-watcher," she explained, warming to the subject. "It used to drive Mum up the wall, because he'd always have the tapes playing in the car on long drives. That's how I recognised the greenshank ... and I suppose that's why we're here today."

Ron nodded encouragingly, his mouth too full to speak.

"Our Dad's spent most of the time either in the shed, or out here on Dartmoor," she poured herself a fresh cup of tea, "and I wanted to see it, to be where Dad was."

"OK," Ron leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Sounds like a good reason to be here. What did our Mum's do?"

"They went shopping and sightseeing. Padstow, Cardiff and Cardigan."

"Really? Mum's from Padstow, that's how she knows it," Ron said. "Your Mum's Welsh?"

"Half," she said, "Grandma grew up in Cardigan and Mum went to University in Cardiff."

"That explains last night's dinner then," Ron chuckled, "I was wondering."

"Hmm." She nodded absently, her eyes unfocused. "It was the monument that put it all on my mind."

"The monument?"

"It's made of welsh pennant, you see, and it made me remember when I was little." At his curious look she continued on. "Grandma died when I was 9, but when I was little she used to look after me while Mum and Dad were at work, she's the one who taught me how to read – and now I'm rambling."

"No, it's good," he assured her, "I'm just wondering why I don't know all this stuff already. Why have we never talked about it?"

"When did we ever have time?" Hermione laughed.

"We've got time now," said Ron.

"Actually, there's something else I want to talk about. I'd like to get it over with, no distractions, and then we can enjoy the rest of our day."

"No distractions," Ron chuckled, "so no ... um ..." he gave her a half smile, "kissing or anything, until we've talked about it."

"Well, yeah," she bit her lip, "kissing would be considered a distraction."

"Hogwarts?" Ron guessed.

"Hogwarts," she confirmed.

"Well?" Ron stretched his legs out and leaned on the tor, and then opened a new sandwich. "What do you think?"

"I don't know what to think," she said bluntly. "I feel I should go back, but I really don't want to ... and ..." she threw her hands up in frustration.

"Hermione," Ron brushed her hair back from her face where the wind was resolutely blowing it. "You love studying. Remember back in potions with Slughorn? That amortentia? What did you smell?"

"New parchment, freshly mown grass and ... something else," Hermione blushed.

"New parchment, Hermione. The Hogwarts Library was in your amortentia."

"No, the Hogwarts Library is mainly old parchment," Hermione disagreed. "It was you. New parchment for helping you with your homework, freshly mown grass for summer holidays at The Burrow and ... um ... I can't believe I'm telling you this ... just a touch of the way you smell after you've come in from playing Quiddich."

"That's awful!" Ron laughed.

"I did say it was just a touch," she smirked.

"Just as well."

"Where do you see yourself in 10 years?" she asked, uncrossing her legs and stretching out beside him.

"In 10 years?" He looked surprised. "With you, if you can put up with me for that long."

"You think I should go back," she stated.

"It doesn't matter what I think," he said, "I told you that."

"But you still think it."

"I do." He didn't look happy saying it.

"Why?"

"Apparently the amortentia argument isn't valid, but you do love studying. You know you do. We've talked about this before," he gazed searchingly into her eyes, suddenly intense. "Hermione Granger deserves to be Head Girl of Hogwarts, and she deserves to get the best NEWT results in recorded history." He touched her cheek gently. "Really, I think you'll regret it if you don't."

"I wish you were coming back with me," she whispered, leaning into him.

"So do I." He abandoned his tea to circle his arms around her. "I'm going to have to put Ginny on the job of making sure you don't crack up from working too hard."

"OK."

"OK?"

"OK." Hermione nodded, biting her lip.

"It's going to be a long year," Ron muttered, burying his face in her hair.

"Yeah, it is," she agreed, her voice muffled into his chest.

"Hermione?" He was stoking her hair, pulling it away from her neck and running his fingers lightly along her jaw.

"Hmmm?"

"Did you really ... I mean," he cleared his throat and tried again. "The amortentia, was there really me-after-Quiddich in it?"

"Yeah," she said softly, lifting her head to press her lips on his neck; then shivered when he bought his hand to the small of her back and slipped his fingers under her jumper to drag patterns over her skin. "It's an intoxicating mix."

"I know," he took a deep breath, "it was wood-smoke for all the times we stayed up late waiting for Harry, and black ink for the stains on your fingers, and whatever that scent was you wore in fourth and fifth year ... sometimes you'd walk past and if the wind was right I'd get a hint of it."

_Oh Merlin. _

And there is was again. Ever present and simmering under the surface, ready to burst out with minimal provocation – it still shocked her sometimes – but she accepted that part of her which slid over his legs to straddle him ... his surprised grunt of approval and widening eyes drawing her in.

His hair was getting ridiculous now, as his mother had mentioned more than once, but it felt good in her fingers and glinted in the sun and right now she wouldn't have it any other way ... a handful of it in her fist as she gently pulled his head back and dipped her own until her mouth slanted over his.

She wondered if he knew ... _how could he not _... his lips parted under hers and a soft moan came from the depths of him and all thoughts abandoned her.

She wanted to hurry, _hurry, _hurry – but they had all day – to make the most of it with his large hands on her back urging her on to pressing her belly closer so they were both breathless.

"What was that for?" The softest whisper on the side of her mouth.

"Take me flying." His arms ... tight around her. "Broom's in my bag ... got all day."

"You're killing me." His voice and lips caressing her ear.

"Do you trust me?" His shoulders ... broad under her hands, leading to his neck ... _love his shoulders, love his neck, love him._

"Yes," he breathed, "I trust you."

*

There were worse things than this ... being buffeted by the wind, her hair occassionally whipping in his face – she was tucked carefully in front – her back flush against his front.

He felt half mad ... reckless and free.

Free from interruptions and family and responsibility.

Free to spend the day flying over deserted moors with this dark eyed, dark haired beauty who laughed quietly and told him facts about the remains of the ancient stone dwellings below.

She was guiding them down, to the top of the tallest hill.

"I wonder what the ancients would think," she murmured, her eyes burning into his, "if they saw us here? Would they think we were magic?"

"We are magic," he chuckled, entranced with her as she took his hand and pulled him to the middle of what was once a great stone hut.

"This was someone's home," she whispered, smiling slightly as she pointed her wand in four directions and the air around them shimmered briefly.

The harsh wind turned into a gentle breeze. "Wards?" Ron raised one eyebrow.

"We never really finished breakfast," she said, pulling a blanket out from her handbag and passing him one side, "and it's chilly."

*

She could feel his eyes on her as they spread out the blanket and she smoothed down one corner.

"C'm 'ere." He opened his arms to her and she felt her blood quicken as they came together. "What are we doing here 'Mione?"

"'Mione?" She rubbed her cheek on the scratchy wool of his jumper.

"Hmmm. 'Mione ... my knee ..." he let out a shaky breath. "Could walk without you, probably, but it'd be hard, and weird, and painful and I wouldn't want to try."

She sucked in a quick breath and stared up at him with wide eyes. "That was ..."

"Really soppy," he supplied, and kissed her thoroughly.

"The most beautiful thing I've ever heard," she corrected him when they came apart.

He blushed slightly. "And all true."

"If I didn't know better," she gently ran her fingers over the rims of his ears, "I'd think you were trying to get into my knickers."

"Your knickers?" His voice was faintly raspy as his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"My knickers," she whispered, letting her lips brush over his ear ... a heady and familiar feeling of power flooding her.

"'Mione?" It came out half as a whimper. "What are you doing?"

"Do you want me to stop?" She palmed the crotch of his jeans, his erection under her hand making her catch her breath.

"Bloody hell ..." he groaned, "I don't want you to stop ... move over a bit, let me ... oh shit ... what're you ..."

"Shhh." She had his jeans and underpants halfway down his thighs. "I've wanted to do this for years."

"Years?" He really did whimper this time, with her hand around his erection.

"Years." She moved her hand experimentally. "Is this right?"

"Brilliant."

"Good. Take your jumper off," she ordered, tightening her grip and moving faster, "no, better yet!" She hurriedly pulled her wand from her pocket with her free hand. "I'm going to take our clothes off. Is that OK?"

"You can do that?" His voice rose half an octave.

"If you want," she nodded, slowing her pace slightly.

"You ... yes ... yes ... whatever you want! Oh shit ... you're so beautiful ..." he took one of her naked breasts into his suddenly shaking hand, "sweet Circe, 'Mione ... love you so much ... please don't stop and tell me you want to go ... so good ... swimming or something ..."

"Not going to stop," she murmured, placing an open-mouthed kiss on his bare shoulder, almost moaning herself. "I know you're nearly there and I want to see it ... hear it ... then I want you to do the same to me until I'm begging you to take me right here because I want you so damn much."

He was instantly reduced to an incoherent, strangled "Hhhnngg" as his hips surged forward of their own volition and a sudden arc of fluid surged from him, accompanied with a great sigh of relief.


	29. Still Flying

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Still Flying

* * *

"Blood hell, Hermione," he panted, sinking to his knees and taking her with him, then leaning his forehead on hers. "You've got one hell of mouth on you."

"Was it too much?" She giggled slightly, rubbing her nose over his.

"Hell no ... just wasn't expecting it," he took several deep breaths. "And ... uh ..." he bit back a smile, "we're starkers in the middle of Dartmoor ... oh Merlin ..." he leaned back slightly and his eyes roved over her with something akin to awe. "I heard what you said," he blinked as if to clear his vision and then ran the fingertips of his right hand gently down one of her breasts, as his left hand reached out to stroke her thigh. "I'm taking you at your word, unless you say otherwise ..."

She just nodded, unable to speak in the face of his beautifully naked form.

Unable to speak as he leaned in and kissed her unhurriedly.

Only able to sigh deeply when he lay her down on the blanket and stretched out alongside her, exploring her body with long, slow caresses ... and finally finding her voice again when he bought his mouth to one of her nipples and circled it with his tongue.

"Ron ..."

"Hmmm?"

She could feel him smiling. "More."

"Patience," he dragged his lips over her breasts to pay attention to the other nipple, "you're going to be begging for me, remember?"

"Impertinent," she breathed, gripping his arm and arching her back.

"You know you love it," he chuckled.

"I love _you_."

"Good to know," he was smiling again, kissing his way back up to her neck and nuzzling just below her ear, "do you want me to touch you?"

"Please," she moaned in relief when his hand settled between her legs. "Just there ... uhaaa ... ohhh." Blindly, she reached out to touch him.

"No! Don't do it ... not yet ... you're so ... just wait," bending his head, he attached her mouth to her nipple again, groaning when her hips lifted off the ground and his fingers slid past her clit and further down. "Wet," he muttered feverishly, "have to make you come first, before ... anything else."

"Ron ..." she ground out, tugging on his hair and digging her nails into his shoulder. "Want you now!"

"Can't ... I'll go too fast."

And her hand was over his, forcing it down harder as she pushed frantically upward and gave a sharp keening cry of "Oh god Ron!" and then flopped into a gasping, boneless heap.

He cupped her face in his hands, "'Mione ..." ghosted his lips over hers, "tell me ..." covered her body with his and slowly pushed her legs apart with his knees, taking the time to run one hand over her thigh.

"Now," she bit her lip and fixed her eyes on his face, her chest still heaving, shifting under him and resting her hands on the small of his back.

"It's going to hurt you," his eyes closed briefly as he reached between them and took his erection in hand, the very tip of it nudging her entrance. "Don't want to hurt you."

"Won't," she told him, sliding her hands over his bum and pulling him closer, "not much. I'm relaxed and ... I ..." she took a deep breath and shifted under him again, blushing fiercely, "I masturbate with a ... thing ... sometimes."

"Oh my lord fuck that's so ..." he laughed breathlessly, "unbelievably fucking hot." He thrust forward slowly, his breath hissing through his teeth.

She found that it actually did hurt, just a little, and so didn't have any problem keeping still when he begged her to ... but soon all she felt was a need for something more, and dizzying relief when he seemed to regain his equilibrium ... and then a strange, deep burning that caused her to clutch at him and meet this tentative movements with her own.

It really was a wonderful feeling, although she knew she wasn't going to climax again, and a delightful warmth spread through her. It was Ron, all Ron; struggling to contain himself, a sheen of seat forming over his forehead, a look of intense concentration on his face.

Murmuring words of encouragement, she knew the moment he abandoned his control and groaned aloud ... it felt so fucking fantastic ... at his suddenly hard and fierce thrusts – and a jumbled stream of expletives flew from him with a jerky final growl.

"Stay!" She instinctively wrapped her legs round his when he made to shift off her.

Clearly far too overwhelmed to do otherwise, he acquiesced, leaning on his elbows and allowing his head to rest momentarily on her shoulder.

"I told you ... I'd be too ... fast," he panted, nuzzling her cheek. "Did I even manage 10 seconds?"

"No," she hugged him tightly and then brushed his hair from his damp forehead. "It was at least 15."

"Next time I'll aim for 20," he chuckled, finally rolling off her when she let her legs fall loose.

"You do that," she touched his cheek gently; "I'll have to keep you."

"Hmmm." He ran his thumb over her bottom lip and followed it up with an ardent kiss. "Thank you for having me."

*

The Beginning

*

* * *

_Because it's NOT the end ... hehehehe._

_Well, it's the end of **JUNE**, but there's another 19-odd years to fill in. :-)_

_

* * *

_

_Down to business!_

_Are there any newspaper/magazine type publications in the UK which deal with reports of alien sightings, crop circles and other such things? My google-fu has failed me on this (possibly I wasn't asking the right questions?). The more publicly derided the publication is, the better._

_

* * *

_

_Thanks again to everyone who left reviews! I really appreciated the encouragement. You're total STARS!_

_Last of all, "Thank you for having me." Who's seen Driving Lessons? Couldn't resist ... _


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